


Undercover at The Elvsworth Club

by S_Winter_Fitzgerald



Series: Angry, Half in Love, and Tremendously Sorry [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Angry Half in Love and Tremendously Sorry, F/M, Fake Marriage, Gen, Undercover, Undercover as Married, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 66,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Winter_Fitzgerald/pseuds/S_Winter_Fitzgerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phryne and Jack go undercover at the exclusive Elvsworth Club as a married couple and soon find out that their feelings towards each other don’t make the task of catching a murderer any easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the trope as old as time of the fake!married at an undercover operation and set in the universe of «Angry, Half in Love, and Tremendously Sorry».
> 
> I tried to be as accurate as possible both regarding canon and historical facts but it’s easier said than done sometimes, especially because some details are all over the place in the show (like timelines) and others aren’t even mentioned and the first may influence the latter, as well some bumps in research. Please forgive any inaccuracies derived from these circumstances.
> 
> ETA: Wendell Yates is not supposed to be related to Cec at all. This surname had been on my notes for a while and, to be honest, I didn't even remember Cec's when I decided on it. Because I seem to have some trouble in changing a character's name once everything is in place, I decided to keep it in this story.
> 
> This story is also posted on ff.net.
> 
> It nearly goes without saying that the characters you recognise, past storylines, etc. aren't mine.

«Why would you like to join us?», the stern looking man asked from behind the dark mahogany desk. He had an average build, well combed short grey hair, small dark brown eyes, and sat and walked with a very upright posture.

«Well…», the applicant paused for a second, «some people tried to lure us to other clubs but anyone in Australia who deem themselves even as the most amateur golfer knows that the Elvsworth has not only the best green of the south coast but one of the best in the country.»

Wendell Yates looked at the man in front of him. He was in his late 30s or early 40s and had a composed and straightforward demeanor that would be appreciated in the club. After Thomas Siddall, Alan Branson, and Peter Logan had died, they definitely needed more of that.

«Archie and I were the best players of our club, back when we were in Scotland. I'm sure that having us would add tremendous prestige to the Elvsworth, would it not?»

Yates looked at the very smartly dressed woman in a burgundy suit with matching hat and gloves seated in front of him. She was smiling rather warmly, but he wasn't very convinced that having her there would sit well with the other ladies.

«We have many splendid players, Mrs. Jones.», he replied, looking sternly at her again.

She was attractive, he would give her that, but the fact that this Mr. Archibald Jones had chosen to marry her didn't do much for him, despite the initial good impression. He was sure she was too wild and modern.

«I don't doubt it.», she continued.

Phryne wanted to punch Yates in the face – had been wanting to ever since he had been introduced to her and had greeted her with «What a beautiful woman your wife is, Mr. Jones.», as if she weren't there and before saying a single word to her. The way he had phrased it was bad enough, but the very condescending tone used might have been even worse. Yet she loved investigating and getting the job done more so she would keep her anger inside until she had the chance to deflect his remarks more elegantly than what he deserved.

«Despite the tragic circumstances that reduced our presidential board,», he made a respectful pause, « the decisions regarding the admission of new members aren't taken by me exclusively, but we'll let you know as soon as we come up with a verdict.», he said, getting up from his chair, smiling broadly now, very pleased with his joke.

Phryne and Jack got up from their chairs as well and forced themselves to smile, albeit a great deal less enthusiastically.

«We are looking forward to learning it.», Jack said, « I'm sure you'll make the right decision.»

«You're quite something, Mr. Jones.», Yates said, pointing at him in a knowing manner.

«I think the same.», Phryne said, putting her hand on the inside curve of Jack's right elbow, punctuating her statement with an alluring smile.

It wasn't the first time it happened, but he was taken aback by her action nevertheless. It startled him, it was true, but he couldn't say he didn't like feeling her touch. Jack quite did it, in fact, even if he wasn't yet used to her being able to make that sort of gesture without it seeming odd. Odd to the outside, that was, now that to the eyes of the small world of the Elvsworth Club they were married. Well, Archibald and Fern were.

«What do you think, Mr. Jones?»

Both Mr. Jones and Jack didn't know what they were supposed to think about. Phryne's hand on his arm had made him trail off and he was mad at himself for it. How did she yield such power over him? If something as simple as that had had such an impact on him, what would be the result of a weekend (if not more) together? Jack took a deep breath as if to ready himself for those impending days.

«Come on. Don't be shy, darling. We are amongst friends here. Archie has the most fascinating collection of paperweights. You should come to our house and pick one yourself for the auction. We would love to help the Children's Hospital.», Phryne said, her gaze swinging from him to the other man.

«My wife knows me too well, I'm afraid, Mr. Yates. Of course, I would be very honoured to contribute alongside Elvsworth to such a worthy cause.»

«Wonderful. »

«We will not take more of your time. I'm sure you are very busy, especially now, that you had to take on more responsibility.», Phryne said.

«Unfortunately, it's true. Thomas, Alan, and Peter will be missed for many reasons.», Yates agreed, lowering his eyes.

Before leaving the office, they shook hands with him. Even counting the murder scenes she had been at already, Phryne had rarely been this glad she was wearing gloves.

«You've been awfully quiet since we left the club, Jack.», remarked Phryne, looking at him with a teasing smile.

« I've been busy with driving and with trying to find both an 'outstanding collection of paperweights' and a house for the Joneses in such short notice. I'm sorry if my conversational skills have not been quite up to par.»

Jack said those words as nonchalantly as he was able, but, in truth, it was difficult to not unsettle oneself when one's job was on the line and a killer was on the loose. Bringing Phryne along in an undercover operation would never be without risks, especially ones derived from her unpredictability, but he didn't expect them to begin so soon.

«Do you really think I'd say something like that without having a plan? I would like to believe that you know me better than that.», she said with false offense in her voice.

«You make me think a lot of things, Miss Fisher.», Jack replied, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

« I figured we might need a house sooner or later and took the liberty of renting a lovely one in Hawthorn. We can drop by now if you want. I have the keys right here.», Phryne announced proudly, raising her silk floral-print handbag in the air.

Jack tried to keep an indifferent expression but he couldn't avoid smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned above, I tried to have a factual background, so I chose Hawthorn because I read some parts had quite an affluent make-up, in the beginning of the century at least. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter and are curious to read more of this story. Let me know what you think of it, if you'd be so kind.


	2. Chapter 2

«Home sweet home, Archie.», Phryne said with a pleased look on her face when Jack stopped the motorcar in front of the iron gate of number 17 on Christopher Crescent.

He leaned over the steering wheel so he could see the building from under the metal roof of the vehicle.

A Victorian redbrick house in Queen Anne federation-style with dark green wood trimmings edged in white and three bay-windows stood on top of a small grass-covered hill.

Elegant residences lined the street but none seemed as distinguished as the one they would pretend to live in. It was placed further back than the rest, which made it look very imposing, an impression deepened by the fact that to get to the front door, one had to climb the three slightly zigzagging sandstone staircases that lead there.

«The estate agent didn't have anything less exuberant, I presume.», he said. Jack knew better than to think that Miss Fisher would rent a presentable but discreet cottage in a quiet street, but he couldn't deny he was surprised nevertheless.

«Are you afraid it may seem too much for an employee of the Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics ?», Phryne asked, while getting out of the car.

«The official story didn't include any significant fortune, so yes.», Jack noted, exiting the vehicle as well.

«Archibald Jones has just come back from some sort of long study in Scotland sponsored by both the CBCS and the Royal Statistical Society, he is no ordinary statistician.

» Besides, It's  _our_  story; if it puts your mind at ease, Fern can be fabulously wealthy.», Phryne continued, when he joined her by the front fence.

«Theirs would seem a very odd match.», Jack said, facing her.

«At first, they also thought so, but they couldn't help it, no matter how much they tried.»

«' _The course of true love never did run smooth_.'», he quoted.

« _'_ _Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments'_ », she quoted back.

Both stopped talking for a moment. Their friendship had eventually allowed them to feel at ease with each other enough to exchange playful words but they had been walking such a fine line as of late, it wasn't that uncommon for them to hide behind silence when it seemed they might have gone too far into the questions that had complicated everything, as it was the case.

«Shall we come in?», said Phryne, picking one key in particular from the ring she was holding and opening the gate.

Jack nodded.

«It has a gazebo and everything.», he said once they were already inside the property.

He had noticed it as soon as he had gotten out of the motorcar but it was time to move the conversation forward; there was work to be done.

« Some statues as well and two fountains, this, », Phryne said pointing to the bronze one on the left, in the landing after the first staircase, « and another in the back yard. It also has a garage. If I didn't like my house so much, I might very well rent this one for myself.»

The garden had well-kept edges all around the fences, surrounding the stone banisters and some circling the two flowerbeds, one on each side of the stairs. Trees that seemed to be there since the house had been built stood tall in the corners of the property, big enough to shelter a significant part of the space from the sun but without making it seem cluttered to the eye. They had been placed carefully and he guessed they weren't compromising the view of the area, a benefit it had over the rest of the neighbourhood due to its elevated location. It was a very striking house, there was no doubt about it, but he still wasn't sure if its grandeur wouldn't betray them in the end.

«Aren't they going to feel threatened? The members of the Elvsworth don't seem very welcoming towards strangers, let alone those who may have more money or power.»

«This house is a perfect compromise between setting the Joneses as distinguished, interesting people and yet not enough for them to feel we are taking over the club; I've researched theirs. Aren't we supposed to make an impression that will leave them begging for us to join them? »

«You seem very certain.»

« Have I ever not?»

« I can think of a time or another, but I'm sure you would be able to refute all my arguments.», he acknowledged with a smile.

And, just like that, they were right back in the situation they had unwillingly found themselves into ten minutes ago, if that much, in a couple of sentences.

«Gregor would love the garden.», Jack said, perhaps too quickly. Both of them knew that they couldn't run away forever. They would have to put fear aside and talk frankly someday, but they dreaded this conversation yet to come, the consequences it might have in their relationship, which was so complex already. None of them dwelled on it much, in case thinking of it often would be like summoning that event.

«Gregor? Is he a friend?»

Phryne was truly curious. She had never met a friend of Jack, or even heard of one. She was familiar with his ex-wife, his ex-father-in-law, some of his colleagues but not with a friend. He must have one, apart from herself, that was. He was intelligent, kind, loyal, and witty; despite his shyness and reserved manner, someone might have been able to see and go behind that veil - a childhood pal, a colleague from Police academy, a fellow soldier he had met in his army years.

«Sort of.

» Yes, you could say so. Gregor is my dog.».

«You have a dog.», Phryne's voice had a tinge of surprise.

«Why do you seem so bewildered? Don't you think I could care for something?», although his words seemed a bit passive-aggressive, his tone gave away that he was not being that serious.

She didn't reply immediately; she knew he could.

« _Gregor_  means vigilant, watchful, alert.

» I think it suits you have a dog with such a name.»

« Curiously, that's why I thought it would be a good match.»

Despite considering that she knew him rather well, Phryne acknowledged that there were plenty of things in Jack's life she was unaware of, from simple ones like the fact that he had a dog and more significant ones such as what had lead him to become a policeman or if he had any siblings, for instance. The little details he shared now not only helped her to understand him even better and – Phryne found herself noticing – to care more deeply for him.

» Are you ready?»

«As ready as I can be, I reckon.».

Phryne opened the door and they walked into a large foyer painted in a cream colour, with the bottom half of the walls wainscoted with wood in the same colour and salmon, dark violet and grey bands around the edges of the vaulted ceiling. It had dark wood floors, left bare apart from the area covered by a silk Turkish rug with a hunting design under the large octagonal antique-looking table in the centre of the room, which had a calyx shaped vase in solid brown and a mixture of orange and opal on top of it. Pending above, there was a bronze and beaded chandelier that matched the wall lights next to the doors leading to the rest of the house.

« It still looks a bit too gloomy to be lived in, but Mr. Butler will love being in charge of it and bringing it up to shape.»

» We better get some flowers for there, to begin with.», she decided, pointing at the vase.

« Don't you think it may be risky?»

« Are you doubting Mr. Butler's skills, Jack?», Phryne asked with a falsely baffled expression.

« Quite the contrary, I've have been given all the evidence that Mr. Butler is very capable. But aren't you afraid someone may recognize him? We've gone through the all the information available about the members of Elvsworth but they seem to have so many hidden details we can't be sure we won't have to face someone who he may have worked for previously.»

«Don't worry. I've gone through those names with him and no one who has ever come to my house would be part of the club.»

Whether because they admired her or frowned upon her behaviour, a significant part of Melbourne's high society was aware of Phryne's «untamed» ways, the extravagant clothes, the fast driving style behind the wheel of the red Hispano-Suiza, the never-ending «lively» parties she attended. She didn't care much for what people had to say about it, but it was something that upset Aunt Prudence a great deal so she did her best to keep her niece out of the papers and the gossip rags. People knew stories of her, some even had briefly seen her, but for the majority of those same people it was as if Phryne were a folk legend no one knew exactly where or when had started.

And to be completely honest, Jack doubted more of the result of trying to pass Cec and Bert as convincing footmen, if it ever came to it, than of Mr. Butler's management abilities.

«Bedroom, bathroom, corridor to the kitchen, billiards room, formal dining room, drawing room, library.», Phryne said as she pointed to the various doors anti-clockwise.

» Master Bedroom.», she continued, pronouncing those two words very clearly.

Jack had been looking around the foyer, following her finger as she talked but because she was pointing over her shoulder now to the door in front of which she stood, his gaze was on her face. He held her stare, even after Phryne had asked:

«Would you care to see it first?»

«Perhaps it's best if we start from the drawing room. It's more likely we have to entertain Yates there.»

«One never knows.», she said, raising an eyebrow.

» But as you wish. We have time.»

Phryne passed by him, leaving a trail of Chanel nº 5 hovering in the air. He walked a few steps behind, swallowing dryly once her back was turned to him. After having thought she had died about two months and a half ago, this type of remarks still jolted his being more than what he would have liked.

Sunlight came through the biggest of the bay-windows they had seen from the outside as well as from the ones on the hollow tower-like shallow corner, both decorated with geometric-motifs stained glass and framed by white bell arches trimmed in green and yellow.

Jack's steps resonated on the dark wood polished floors as he moved towards the first window. He could see the roofs of the neighbourhood, the top of the trees of Grace Park, the sliver of the Yarra River glistening in the horizon. It was a very pleasant view indeed. He turned around and looked attentively to the aqua green walls and the details on the ceiling. It was adorned by a floral art nouveau frieze in red, green, and gold and complementary medallion which highlighted the elegant crystal chandelier.

Meanwhile, Phryne had sat on the Louis XVI sofa upholstered in beige damask which was placed in the centre, waiting for him to be over with inspecting the room. She was watching him move around, checking the statues on the windowpane, the oil paintings depicting landscapes adorning the walls, the impressive bronze clock on top of the marble mantelpiece. It was an odd thing to do, slightly disturbing even, she acknowledged, but she cherished watching him from afar like this. Despite their growing intimacy, he was still very guarded, and this provided her with a glimpse to his core. Besides, there was no shame in admitting that Jack was a handsome man whose shoulders filled a suit and a trench-coat very nicely. She didn't want to make him self-conscious, so she always tried to be very discreet, but she had lost her train of thought for an instant and didn't notice that he was looking at her reflection on the gilt-wood large mirror above the fireplace. Yet, when their eyes met, none of them averted the other's gaze.

«Were you spying on me, Miss Fisher?», he asked eventually, facing her now.

«Spying is too strong of a word, Jack.»

» I was merely keep track of your whereabouts.»

« It's a very interesting house indeed, but I'm afraid there isn't one single paperweight in sight. There are plenty of rooms I haven't been to yet, but it would be expected to have one in the drawing room at least, no?»

«Are you doubting me again, Jack?»

«I wouldn't dare to, not in these circumstances.», he said, lifting his left index finger and making a rotation motion with it.

«Billy Ashton?», Phryne asked, laying the groundwork to present her (great) idea.

«The gangster?»

«I'm sure there's a fair share of Billy Ashtons in Melbourne, but not many have had their house seized by the police in the last month, hopefully.»

«How do you even know that?»

This couldn't be more of a rhetorical question. His arrest had made the headlines two weeks ago but that was a detail that hadn't been disclosed to the public. And yet, regardless her privileged position with the South City Police, it would be perfectly expected if she had a network of informants as extensive as his.

«I know a lot of things.»

«What does Billy Ashton have to do with this, then?»

« A very interesting collection of paperweights he could lend to Archibald Jones. I doubt they'd be of much use in prison.»

«And you became acquainted with this fact…»

«Once again: I know lot of things.»

Jack dropped that part of the subject. Miss Fisher would always have plenty of tricks up the sleeves of her fashionable clothes.

«So, if I understand this correctly, you are suggesting we take the paperweights and not only bring them to this house but also put at least one of them up for auction? You are suggesting we sell current police property?»

It was a bold proposition. A great deal of hers were.

«Why not? They're sitting in an empty house at the moment, doing nothing more than gathering dust.

» Besides, it's very amusing having Ashton help the Police even if unknowingly», Phryne concluded with a mischievous grin on her lips.

Jack smiled at her. After many years of chase, catching him had been a great feat and a source of pride to the police but this small personal way of celebration could be entertaining indeed.

«Very well, but provided someone buys it?», he asked, trying to regain his sceptical posture.

» 'Excuse me, sir or madam, but it turns out you bought this piece but it isn't yours actually. Hand it over if you'd be so kind or I'll arrest you?'»

« How could anyone resist a request presented in such a manner ?», Phryne said, looking at him squarely.

«Hopefully they will be as easily swayed as you expect them to.»

« It may take some effort, but you can be very persuasive, Jack.»

» Shall we see the rest of the house? We still haven't been to the master bedroom», she proposed, after having gotten up from the sofa.

«I'm looking forward to it…»

A surprised expression was starting to form on Phryne's face.

» Guessing by the rest of the house, I'm sure it has wonderful furniture.», he said, smiling amused at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christopher Crescent doesn't exist in reality but I've set in amongst those very near Grace Park.
> 
> The Australia Bureau of Statistics is in charge of these matters nowadays but this name dates back to 1979 . When it was formed in 1905, this department was named Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics (CBCS).
> 
> The Shakespeare quotes Jack and Phryne mention are from A Midsummer Night's Dream and from the Sonnet 116, respectively.
> 
> Billy Ashton doesn't exist as well.
> 
> I'd love to know what you think of this chapter. Thanks in advance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for having read the first two chapters of this story.
> 
> The CBCS acronym mentioned in the second line stands for the Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics.
> 
> I hope you enjoy what you're about to read.

 

«I find it very odd that Yates hasn't said anything for these past days.», remarked Phryne, seated in one of the chairs in front of Jack's desk.

« I thought it was strange too; that's why I checked twice a day with the CBCS, despite the orders they have to telephone immediately if anyone calls or comes looking for Jones, but so far, nothing.»

«Do you think they may have seen through our story?», Phryne was truly concerned their investigation had been compromised, but she couldn't deny she would be disappointed as well if it were the case and she couldn't annoy Yates and play Fern Jones alongside Jack.

«There's a chance, I guess, but it was carefully put together and we minded every detail we could think of.

» I also believe that if Yates or anyone from Elvsworth knew that this was a lie, Commissioner Harker would have walked through that door already. They would have either gone to the papers, threatened to file a lawsuit against the Police, or both.»

«Yates would absolutely love to storm in and expose us, that's for sure.», Phryne said, already picturing the spectacle he would come up with.

They both smiled, bonding over their common dislike of the interim president of the club.

«Perhaps we should have given him the Hawthorn address right away.

» No one has checked The Hotel Windsor either, right?», Phryne said.

«No one.», Jack confirmed.

»Maybe this excruciating waiting period is part of the admission process.», he continued.

«Only the strong survive.»

«Darwin would be proud.»

A knock on the door draw their attention.

« Come in, Collins.»

Hugh opened the door and walked into the office.

«Inspector.

» Miss Fisher.», he said, greeting her with a nod.

» A telephone call from the Commonwealth Bureau…»

« Don't be so formal, Hugh. What did they say?», Phryne interrupted.

Jack shot her an impatient look.

«Well, they telephoned to say that Mr. Wendell Yates called looking for you, sir, well, for Mr. Jones.»

«The game's afoot.», Phryne said, barely able to contain the enthusiasm.

«Did Mr. Yates leave a number?», Jack asked, less thrilled.

«Yes, sir.», Hugh confirmed, handing him a piece of paper.

«Thank you, Collins», he said, dismissing his subordinate.

«Do you think we should wait any longer?», Phryne remarked, after failing to see Jack pick up the telephone right away, even before Hugh was out, as she expected him to.

«It has occurred to me that they may be on to us already but instead of putting up a scandal, they decided it would be more productive to make us behave like fools.»

« Do you think that if that's the case we aren't good enough to revert the game back in our favour?», she asked defiantly.

«Should we gain some time to let Mr. Butler get the house ready?»

«Everything has been ready ever since we visited the other day.

» You can give him the number. Mr. Butler and Dot are already there.», Phryne informed him, pleased with herself, scribbling the phone number down on a pad he had on his desk. She didn't feel like having to control everything in her life but she would never improvise this sort of things in such a situation.

»They can't wait for it to start.»

It was true. Right from the beginning of their acquaintance with Phryne Fisher, both knew that she was not a regular employer and even an undercover operation wasn't exactly a new thing to either of them. They were looking forward to it although with different levels of enthusiasm, being Mr. Butler on the top of the scale and Dot in the half-point of it – she had sort of grown accustomed to this sort of agitation but still had a pang or two of guilt and regret for breaking some rules. Nevertheless, she couldn't deny that when she didn't think of them, it was fun and a chance to find out she was able to do much more than what she had given herself credit for.

Jack arranged the telephone in front of him and put the receiver on his left ear before dialing the number Collins had brought him. He did all this in a very fastidious manner, something Phryne was starting to believe he was doing simply to exasperate her.

She moved from her place in front of the desk to next to him, sat on the arm of his chair and put her ear next to the other end of the receiver, trying to catch something as well. First, Jack looked at her. They hadn't been this physically close in a while, a feeling heightened by the fact that she was in the small space between himself and the wall. He could see clearly the spots of darker grey in her eyes, the light-yellow circles around the pupils, hear her breathing, the rustling of her clothes when she had moved and when she put a lock of hair behind her ear so she could listen better. A bit flustered – having her so close wasn't that new but its frequency didn't diminish the effect she had on him –, he was mentally familiarising himself with having Archibald Jones as his name, hoping he wouldn't fail to respond to it in a timely manner or introduce himself as Detective Inspector Robinson. It was a difficult task though, when her hair kept brushing on the back of his hand, a stubborn strand that didn't stay where she meant it to.

He cleared his throat.

«Uh… yes… good afternoon. This is Archibald Jones for Mr. Wendell Yates, please.»

While he waited, Jack looked to his left, facing Phryne, but quickly decided against it. He needed to be fully concentrated; staring at the penholder instead would be a much wiser decision.

«Mr. Yates?»

Phryne leaned closer to Jack, giving way for another jarring accidental touch when she took off her earring so she could get even closer.

«Yes, we're finally settled. Fern and I have been meaning to call you but work has taken plenty of my time for these past days.»

Jack kept quiet for some moments, listening to what he heard from the other side. Phryne, on the other hand, was on the verge of giving up because she couldn't make out a single thing of what was being said and maybe it was the cue to try to find another way of being able to do so.

He laughed unexpectedly.

« What?», she mouthed.

Jack shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

«We have at last and that's why, as I said, we have been meaning to call you. Now that we are at home instead of at The Hotel Windsor, we would like to invite you to come to our house and choose the paperweight we talked about.

» Of course we hadn't forgotten.»

As Jack was talking, it was dawning on him that that undercover operation was a real assignment they had taken on, no longer an outrageous plan that Harker had approved of for reasons he didn't exactly know. It had been an intriguing attitude considering South City Police's slightly unofficial stance of keeping away from scandal until the memory of Sanderson's conduct had blown over and the high profile of some of the Elvsworth's members.

«When? Let me check with Fern, please. Just a moment.»

It was Phryne's turn to shake her head. Yates hated her and would not have much respect for Archie Jones if he kept running things by his wife.

She picked up the pad where she had written the number and wrote underneath it

DINNER TOMORROW. COCKTAIL BEFORE. BRING WIFE IF WANTED.

« Would dinner tomorrow be suitable for you? And this invitation is extended to your wife, obviously. We would be very glad to welcome you both for cocktails before.»

Jack laughed again. Phryne made an encouraging expression. Given that they were on the telephone, Yates couldn't see his face, but if anyone unfamiliar with the whole situation took a look into that office now, they would easily think he was talking to a much esteemed friend. His theatre background would definitely be helpful, even if it hadn't been that brilliant.

« Would 7.30pm be suitable for you?»

He looked at her and nodded. The hour had been settled.

«Very well, then.

» If needed you can reach us on 37324.

» The address? Of course. Don't mind me and forgive me, Mr. Yates. As I've mentioned before, my time has been very busy as of late. 17 Christopher Crescent in Hawthorn.»

» You live near Hawthorn too? What a curious coincidence. A sign, perhaps?»

Phryne winked at Jack and smiled at him, victorious.

« Would you mind repeating what you've just said? I'm sorry, someone knocked on the door.»

She didn't do it all the time on purpose, but she couldn't deny she liked to see him disconcerted like that. Phryne Fisher wasn't oblivious to the effect she could have at all, but even less to of the effect she had on Jack. It could be seen as somewhat mean, sometimes, but she liked to rattle him. Not too much, just enough to shake him up from now and then.

«You will not be imposing at all. As I said, we are looking forward to having you at our house and honoured that you are our first guests.»

There weren't many things Jack hated as much as adulating people, especially people he didn't like, as it was the case, so Phryne knew that those words were demanding some effort from him but he was conducting the conversation flawlessly.

«Thank you, thank you. You're too kind. We'll meet tomorrow then. A nice afternoon to you too, Mr. Yates. Thank you.»

Jack put the receiver on the hook of the telephone and looked at his watch.

« I believe we have 27 hours and 18 minutes to get everything ready. It could always be worse. »

«That's the spirit.», said Phryne, putting her earring on again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your time. 
> 
> Comments/reviews/kudos would be much appreciated, in case you are wondering. :)


	4. Chapter 4

In spite of the Commissioner Harker's approval and intervention, a lot of red tape had still been needed in order to have 8 wooden crates containing about 10 paperweights each, made of glass, bronze, marble, crystal, pate de verre, agate or brass delivered to the house late in that afternoon.

Billy Ashton's was indeed a very extensive collection, but Phryne had personally handpicked each one of those which were now on the shelves of various rooms of the house on Christopher Crescent, taking in mind what would look good there but what would also appeal to Fern and Archie's taste, life, and experiences.

After Phryne herself, Mr. Butler, Dot, Cec, Bert, and Jack had unpacked, dusted, and put them in place, she had said:

«It still seems that no one lives here.

» I mean, the curtains are drawn back, there's fruit In the kitchen, drinks in the bar-cart and a newspaper on the table of the hall but it lacks something.»

«What do you suggest?», Jack had asked, a bit fearful of her answer, something that he kept to himself. One could never predict what Miss Fisher would come up with.

« You and I will go to our own real houses and bring things that remind us of home, following pretty much the same criteria I took for Ashton's paperweights. Anything against?», she had said.

«No, nothing.»

It hadn't been a difficult request, especially given that he was expecting something much more outrageous.

« What did you bring?», Phryne was trying to make sense of the things she could see in the card box Jack had put on the dining table, about two hours later after she had presented her idea.

«Ladies first?»

Despite his general polite behaviour, he wasn't exactly following some kind of chivalry rule; in fact, he was trying to delay what couldn't be delayed. Revealing the contents of the box would be exposing himself more than what he liked to do, even if Phryne made him want to not mind being vulnerable in front of her. He could have always chosen things that didn't mean that much to him, but that would feel like lying and, apart from some very singular circumstances, he didn't like to lie, particularly to her.

« House is already sort of here with Dot, Mr. Butler, Cec, and Bert but I also brought my vanity table things, Janey's hair ribbon, my flying helmet, some pictures I took in my trips, including of Scotland, some drawings Aunt Prudence gave me, one of Jane's bracelets.

» They're already in place. You took a lot of time. »

It was true. Hers had seemed a relatively simple question until he had found himself wondering what to bring.

Jack took a deep breath and described what he was putting on the table, but not elaborating much.

«Some photographs, some sporting events medals and cups, a small hammer that belonged to my father, one of my mother's sheets of music. Not much, too bad I couldn't bring Gregor.»

Phryne picked up the photographs. There were four of them. In the first, eighteen or nineteen-year-old Jack was next to a man older than him, in front of what seemed the door of St. Ignatius church, the Gothic Revival arch of the entrance behind them.

She was feeling conflicted: despite a particular hunch about his identity, she obviously wanted to know who the man in the picture was but she didn't exactly feel comfortable enough to directly ask, hoping he would feel at ease enough to share that by himself. He had brought those pictures after all.

« That's Matthew, my older brother. It was taken on his wedding day.»

She raised her eyes from the photographs in her hands to meet his.

« He lives in Perth, is a fireman and has three children with Ruby, my sister-in-law.

» We check up on each other from time to time but haven't seen each other in a while…He's ten years older than me and we've never been very close. I mean… he's my brother, heaven help anyone who hurts him but maybe that paired with the fact that he has been living away for long is why I never mentioned him, I guess.»

«You look alike.», Phryne said at last. It was something that went without needing to be spelt out to anyone who looked at the picture, but she was still a bit taken aback by his revelation. Having a sibling wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but the same couldn't be said about hearing him willing to talk about his family and she moved on to the next photograph, taking his words as a good sign.

» Your family, I reckon?», she said, turning it to Jack. That image featured four people posing for the photographer with quiet smiles on their faces and who looked very at ease with each other: it seemed to have been taken in that same wedding day, everyone appeared to be wearing their best clothes – Jack, Matthew and their parents, probably.

« Yes. My brother, me, my father, Patrick, and my mother, Mary.»

The shadow that fell over Jack's eyes told her a bit of the rest of the story.

«I'm sorry.»

Jack nodded.

» Don't tell me that you have already been to Scotland but were concealing it from me?» Phryne continued after a pause, with a playful twist in her voice, holding now a postcard of the University of Glasgow, its Gothic Revival building overlooking the River Kelvin, the tower standing out from the rest of the landscape.

«I haven't, even if I'd like to someday. It was sent to me by Charles Dunn, Charlie Dunn, a friend I made in the army. He is Scottish. Our regiments served together in the Western Front. We haven't seen each other ever since but we've kept in touch. »

Phryne smiled. Of course he had to have a friend. This one lived on the other side of the world and they hadn't seen each other in more than a decade but he had a friend.

« Perhaps you should have written to him to ask some more details about Scotland, how the weather has been and the latest news?»

« I have sent him both a telegram and a letter in fact, but I'm still waiting for his answer.»

» He's on the next picture.», Jack said, his openness surprising her once again.

Phryne turned to it. The two men were seated on wooden crates around a small camp table in a certainly very welcome break. It appeared they had paused their game in order to pose to the photographer, holding the cards against their knees, keeping their hands from prying eyes. She was curious about Dunn but nevertheless her eyes were drawn to the man she already knew, on the left.

The first thing she noticed about Jack was how young he looked. He was probably about 25 years old or so, despite the dark shadows around his eyes, which revealed the tiredness that laid behind his shy smile. He also seemed to be holding something back, perhaps what was needed for him to be there without completely losing his mind, even if he wasn't in combat in that precise moment.

Jack had a khaki jacket buttoned up to his neck with a general service badge, 'rising sun' as people called it, despite it being supposed to depict the King's crown, on each side of the turned lapels, but it was possible to see the top outline of his shirt's neckband. The jacket had four pockets - two in front of the chest and two in front of the abdomen – and was girded to the body by a thick leather belt. The grainy look of the picture and the way he was seated didn't allow her to make out the colour of the patches sewn to the upper arm of the garment so she couldn't even guess the unit he had served with but she believed she could distinguish the downward two-bar chevron that indicated a corporal.

Breeches in a similar beige to that one of the jacket went all the way a bit below his knees, its hems hidden inside the brown leather boots, worn with spiral strap leggings that she knew covered the laces. Despite the muddy floor on which they were standing, Jack's were clean apart from the welt. He had the felt slouch hat on, the left side of its brim turned up and seemingly held in place by another rising sun badge.

Because of his position and the bulk the pockets of his coat she couldn't get much information about the height and build of the man next to him. He seemed a bit older than Jack, had a thin and long face, slightly googled-eyes of a colour the black-and-white photo didn't let her discern and narrow lips - the kind of face that is bestowed upon one too soon before they can fully own their interesting features.

Dunn's outfit was very similar both in cut and in style, apart from the insignia on his jacket and his headdress. His seemed to have the Royal Army Medical Corps badge on the collar - she remembered it being a the serpent entwined-rod of Asclepius enclosed with a laurel wreath with a crown above it and the motto  _Arduis Fidelis, "Faithful in Adversity,"_ below - and his sleeves were finished with the two star rank badges on the outer side of each of them that signaled him as a lieutenant _._ Despite being Scottish and attached to a Scottish unit, he didn't wear a tartan like it happened to many of the regiments coming from his country or affiliated with it. His role as part of the RAMC didn't allow him to, but he wore a Glengarry bonnet instead of a peaked cap over his dark hair.

Charlie's tunic sleeves had a round red cross badge, very similar to the one Phryne had worn around hers back then when she had driven ambulances in France. She didn't know exactly where Jack had served – he had never mentioned it and she would never ask him unless it ended up coming in conversation; it was something painful to remember for both of them – and it crossed her mind that maybe they had been stationed in the same place or at least nearby. Considering their jobs, perhaps Phryne and Charlie's paths had even intersected briefly along the way, even if she didn't recall him. But then, there had been so many people, so many faces she was reminded of from time to time but that she had to otherwise lock in a corner of her mind so she could live the best she could, unwilling to waste it when she had been lucky enough to survive when so many hadn't.

« Those decks of cards saved my life once.», Jack said, after swallowing dryly, as if to ready himself to peel away another of the layers he had wrapped his memories of the war in, and putting his hands on the table, steadying himself.

Talking about these things was something he usually didn't feel very keen on doing. It had been so difficult to make the possible peace with everything he had lived in those years and despite always being very grateful for having been able to not only come home, but also to return healthy, some mental trauma notwithstanding, coping led him to think sometimes if this attempt to move on was not a disrespect for those who had perished.

Some people felt that sharing their experience helped them process their pain, some didn't want to hear a single word on it again, their private demons were remembrance enough. Jack wasn't exactly sure of Phryne's stand on it and didn't want to burden her but there was something in her demeanor and the way she was looking at him that made him feel a bit more willing to reveal what had happened on the dawn of 25 April 1918 in Villers-Bretonneux.

On her side, Phryne thought it was best to let him do what he wanted to do. Go on if he wanted or keep quiet if he realised that he wasn't ready to talk about that day yet. She wanted to say something, to reach across the table and put her hand on his, but, despite it being rare, she didn't exactly know what to do - perhaps it might feel like she was corralling him.

» Everything took place suddenly. I don't remember much how it happened.», he said, his gaze shifting from her eyes to the polished wood of the table top.

»I t was all very confusing; we were under heavy German fire. There were people shouting and shots coming from more directions we could keep track of. I was with Parsons and Bamford in charge of a machine-gun, trying to cover other men attempting to take more than centimeters of enemy territory with grenades. We were hidden in a somewhat shallow trench about a meter and a half ahead of a regular trench but I'm hit by something and fall on my back, a burning sensation on my left side. »

Jack paused for a moment, needing to take a deep breath. He had talked more quickly than what he was expecting, especially considering the mention of those brothers in arms, who had both died in the war.

» I looked to where the pain came from and I saw a tear in my uniform that went from the upper pocket, alongside my flank and to my back. », he said, tracing the path of the bullet, about four fingers below his armpit, as he talked.

«I didn't see blood immediately but the pain was so intense that in that moment I was sure I had been shot. It was complete chaos but I was so exhausted and shaken I felt I could lay on that floor forever. Parsons and Bamford kept shooting even when they were asking if I was fine and yelling for the medic. », he continued, looking at the table.

He was on the verge of tears now. More than saying their names again, it was the memory of their genuine worry that hit him.

«It's alright, Jack.», Phryne said now, finally reaching to him across the table, as she had thought of before.

« I guess it were their words that brought me around. That and Parsons pushing me inside the trench as gently as he could considering that we kept being under fire. The pain was still strong but not as much as it had. My back seemed to hurt harder. But I couldn't lose more time. I put my hand to the tear and moved alongside it slowly. I felt blood now and it hurt when my fingertips touched it. Thankfully it seemed to be a grazing wound, but the bullet or whatever had hit me had pierced through the three layers of clothes and scrapped off a part of my skin as well, deep enough to leave scars that l still have to this day.»

» The medic arrived meanwhile. I could move and was a mentally alert as anyone in a situation like that could be, so I told him to put some anti-tetanus serum on it and dress it.», Jack continued. He felt he couldn't leave the story halfway now.

«He did?» , she asked calmly. Many times the adrenaline, the patriotism, and the sense of duty clouded their judgment and it was up to the medical staff to correctly assess their state, even taking into consideration the progress of battle and if they could be spared in that moment or had to continue as long as they could pull a trigger and take some steps.

«Yes. Things were difficult. We were barely holding our position now. I yelled at him for wanting me to take off my jacket before getting on with it, but he was being smarter than me – a pristine white bandage around my body would make me an even clearer target. »

«The cards diverted the bullet.», Phryne finished.

«Probably they wouldn't if it were coming straight at me, but I guess the bullet was flying in some strange angle and that slight obstacle was enough to change its course.»

«Otherwise it might have hit you in the lung… or in the heart.», just the thought was enough to make Phryne recoil.

» I'm very thankful for those decks.», she said, with her eyes getting watery too now.

Silence filled the room. Jack was a bit more comfortable but not as much as to prod him to keep picking his brain. He needed to sit down actually to start. He pulled the chair in front of him and did so.

«Do you want me to go?»

There was no need to subterfuges or false errands to run.

«No. You can stay. I would prefer if you did so, in fact.», Jack replied, looking at her.

«Take your time.», Phryne said, addressing him a reassuring smile and sitting down too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Military History is very interesting but it can also be very complex, especially if one is confronted with a lot of data but doesn't exactly know where to start, as it happened to me. I tried to be as accurate and logical as possible, but I acknowledge that some parts of what's described may have been a bit streamlined in order to fit more easily into the story, the same going for Jack's injury. I hope this didn't translate into glaring mistakes. If that's the case, as well as due to some bumps in research, please forgive me.
> 
> I know this chapter ended up a bit darker than what the general tone of the story has been so far, but as I've said in «Angry, Half in Love, and Tremendously Sorry», I'm very curious about Jack's life outside the Police station and sometimes I find myself coming up with these headcanons without even knowing what started them.
> 
> It seems that there's a lot of Gothic Revival buildings in Jack's (both «real» and «fictional») life, I guess.
> 
> As usual, I hope you enjoy this installment and your comments/reviews/messages are highly appreciated, if you'd be so kind to send them.


	5. Chapter 5

«Do you think everything looks more homely now, Miss Fisher?», Jack asked, when they were back in the living room after dinner, still enjoying a digestif now that everybody who wouldn't stay there had gone home, including Aunt Prudence. She didn't approve of such a ruse even if to catch a murderer, but had accepted her niece's invitation nevertheless. She could keep an eye on things that way, at least, Mrs. Stanley had declared, especially considering the pretend marriage it also entailed.

« Much better. Bright, welcoming, Mr. Butler and Dot's cooking skills in no way affected by this unfamiliar stove, Aunt P coming for dinner, our nightcaps.», Phryne said, raising her glass.

 _You standing by the fireplace, slightly leaning on it, rarely looking as at ease as in these moments,_ she thought.

»Yates will be sold.»

Jack smiled back to her. Their late night drinks had become a very pleasant part of his days. After they had stopped meeting for a while in the wake of the false report that Phryne had died and during the time he needed to deal with the aftermath, he had missed them very much. He had enjoyed the quiet nights at home before they had started, reading or listening to the radio with Gregor lying at his feet, but without their rendezvous, they seemed very incomplete, even if he appreciated doing those same things once he came home from meeting her.

«I'm only missing Jane. I'm sure she would love the house and will be very disappointed she didn't get to play Fern and Archie's daughter.»

Contrarily to other times, she didn't say this to shake him. Phryne truly thought the girl would like to be part of it. She was so smart, had such spirit and her observational skills could be much appreciated.

«Would you like to have children some day, Miss Fisher? Other than Jane, that is?»

He paused for a small moment.

» I'm sorry. I'm in no place to ask. It's a personal choice.»

«It's alright, Jack.», she said, «unlike others, this answer is not a secret.»

» I don't see myself as a traditional mother in the most basic, biological sense of the word even if I don't tend to close doors for the future, as you well know by now. Perhaps this is a bit strange, but I think I'm a better parent, if you want to say so, to Jane for coming into her life when I did. To answer your question: I think I could take another young person in, if the circumstances presented themselves.».

Phryne took a sip.

«You?»

It was Jack's turn to drink a bit of the port in his glass.

«I am not exactly sure. I get along with children well enough, I guess, but the prospect of having my own seems too daunting sometimes.»

«That's why you and Rosie never had any?»

«Also, I think. We talked about it at some time, but then the war came and after it things weren't easy and our marriage ended meanwhile, if not officially yet. It may sound cruel but I'm glad we didn't have children to drag into all that.»

«There's nothing to be ashamed of. Too many children end up as pawns when things don't go well between their parents.»

«I must head home, I'm afraid, Miss Fisher.», Jack said, after a side-glance to the clock on the mantelpiece.

»It's getting late and tomorrow will be a very long day, I'm sure.»

» When do you want me back here?»

« Around 2 o'clock in the afternoon, it's good, I think. We have five hours to get the last details ready.»

» Don't forget to bring your dinner jacket. Cocktail time and having to look our best demand it.»

«I'll be here at 2 and in the proper attire.», Jack promised, shifting the his weight from one foot to the other.

« Goodnight, Miss Fisher.»

«Goodnight, Jack. Have a good night sleep.»

He thought she looked particularly lovely that evening, clad in a blue grey silk gown that highlighted her flawless complexion and fitted her perfectly.

She had reached out her hand.

« I'll try.», he said, taking it briefly in his; no matter how nice the touch of her skin felt, lingering could not do them any good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is short and doesn't develop the story much further but I felt that after the last chapter the story could use a little pause. I hope you enjoy this nevertheless.
> 
> As usual, reviews/comments/kudos will be highly appreciated and I'm very grateful for holding your attention and entertaining you enough to warrant them. I love hearing from you.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack straightened his bowtie once again in front of the mirror in Miss Fisher's hall – he kept getting the feeling it was always crooked for some reason – and pondered on her influence over him.

Calling the station to ask Collins to tell him to come to St. Kilda at once and to bring his dinner jacket instead of talking to him directly had been a smart move, as surely she probably had anticipated – not much room left for further questions.

It was far from the 2 o'clock schedule they had set the night before and yet his curiosity had been shaken enough for him to be waiting for her to come from upstairs. After he had received her message, he had called, trying to get some more details but it was Dot who had picked up the phone and had said that Miss Fisher preferred to be the one to share them with him, something she mentioned again when she had opened the door, taken his hat and overcoat and disappeared outside into the garden.

Light steps on the first floor drew his attention and Jack turned to his right, confident he would have his questions answered at last.

Yet when she turned the corner onto the first landing and began walking down the last flight of stairs afterwards, his mind went blank and his breath got caught in his throat.

Phryne was wearing a pearl sleeveless silk velvet dress with a scoop neck and a sort of cape in the same fabric trailing behind her. The thick straps were slightly gathered at the shoulders by two diamond and pearl geometric brooches matching both the embellishment in front of the dress and the small one that seemed to hold the tie at the side, which fell with a cascading effect. Apart from it, the dress had a rather shapeless cut, but five strings of pearls set across the abdomen and united in the middle by the central ornamental pin gave it the illusion of a dropped-waist. The hem ended a good bit below her knees but was still short enough to reveal pearl stockings and silk t-strapped shoes in the same colour.

She looked absolutely arresting as usual, but these parts of her outfit weren't what threw him off-balance.

Her black bob was covered by a silk tulle veil that was stretched across her forehead and held in place by the headpiece he remembered seeing her wear at some point of the case at the Green Mill club: a line of round crystals with two hollow half-moons made of them as well dangling from it and two round-shaped pendants in the middle. The veil not only to hit the floor but also went over the dress-cape and ran longer for a bit more, flowing down the steps as she made her way towards the ground floor.

Jack took a deep breath.

«What do you think?», she said, coming down the remaining steps.

Seeing him waiting for her at the bottom of them carried a weight she hadn't expected. In spite of her high regard for her independence, she didn't exactly rule out marriage out of her future completely – as she didn't with anything - , but until Jack she had not met any man who led her to even entertain the thought very remotely.

«I'm at a loss for words, Miss Fisher.»

It was true for both how striking she looked and the possible reasons why she had put on a wedding dress. Jack believed he would probably never see her wearing such a traditional garment. Perhaps one day… he found himself thinking, chastising himself almost immediately for doing so.

«Who would have thought I already owned a dress that could pass for a wedding gown.», she continued, right in front of him now, with a pleased grin on her face.

» Dot made the veil – It was rather an unremarkable piece of cloth when we got it from the House of Fleuri this morning.»

Jack was still having trouble in finding what to say. He couldn't take his eyes off her, especially now that she was so close.

«Was this very particular fashion achievement that required my immediate presence?», he said, after clearing his throat with a faint cough.

«Last night, after you were gone, it dawned on me that there wasn't a single picture of Fern and Archie together in that house, not even a wedding portrait and it seemed too much of a gap.», she explained at last.

» We could say it was still packed, but I think it would too contrived. Don't you?»

«And staging one doesn't?»

« We have to cover all our bases.»

«You couldn't have told me this on the telephone?»

« I didn't want you to get cold feet.», she said in an alluring tone, smiling at him.

«I don't think I could.», Jack replied, more earnestly than what he would have liked to let out, looking into her eyes.

» Uh…good thing you noticed it on time.», he said, trying to create some distance between himself and those previous words.

» Will it be ready for tonight?»

«Yes, if we take it right away and then go to the Police photography laboratory very soon after.»

» I may have mentioned to Commisioner Harker we might need some images for this case. He granted me full access.», she explained in light of the puzzled look on Jack's face.

» It will be very fast: we don't need any technician to help. I can do it myself.»

» Once they are taken, of course.»

Miss Fisher was a woman of many talents indeed, he was reminded of once again, not surprised in the least.

«We better get going then.», Jack said, looking at her with an amused expression across his face.

«Will you marry me?», she said, with a broad smile on her face.

Phryne had lifted her right hand at her shoulder-level and opened it. He had been so absorbed by their conversation and the vision of Miss Fisher in a wedding dress, he hadn't noticed her closed fist. On its palm laid two rings: piece of jewelry that could easily be an engagement present and a plain silvery band. The habit made no need for one for the groom.

«What do you think?», Jack replied. Perhaps it would have been a bit more in tone with their playful banter to say «What do you think Archie should do?». As of late, he had noticed that he had started to shield his feelings behind that fictional character but this time his had spoken louder than that, because, he admitted to himself, if she were the bride, there wasn't any other answer possible but 'yes'.

He was aware that things would never be that clear and linear for them though. They were both committed, intelligent, curious people and it would be a hypocrisy to deny that they did indeed care for each other beyond the realms of simple friendship at this point, but regardless of the magnetism that emanated from them and which ended up drawing closer their opposite traits, they would need much more than it to start and, better still, to continue a normal relationship between them – 'normal' being a very loosely used word, because having Phryne in his life like that could never be so; she was truly extraordinary and he liked how she seemed to awaken in him parts of his personality he thought he had lost forever in the war, how she challenged him. Despite the way his marriage with Rosie had ended they had had their very happy moments together and he hadn't exactly forsaken the concept nor even that he might ever feel that way in one again. He wasn't very sure Phryne would ever want to get married  _–_ to him or _to any other man_ , he thought with a sudden tinge of pain and jealously in his heart – in the official sense of the word and of the proceedings but he could definitely picture them living together nevertheless, even if such arrangement would be a scandalous one _._ He loved her _,_ and even if he liked things done the proper fashion, provided she felt the same away about him, it was compromise enough.

«Jack, are you alright?»

Phryne's words woke him from that daze, accompanied by the touch her left hand on his arm which wasn't making things easier at all. He must stop letting Archie and Fern's domesticity to spill into his own life, especially because, apart from their brief initial conversations with Yates and the interview at Elvsworth, they hadn't exactly had to play house so far and there was a crime to solve, the reason why this charade had begun in the first place. The best (or worst, it was difficult to predict at this stage) was yet to come.

«I am, thank you.», he replied finding worry in the way she was looking at him now, putting on a – he hoped – reassuring and polite smile.

« Your eyes seemed to glaze over for a minute and you got a bit pale.», her tone of voice was still serious.

«I felt light-headed for an instant, that's all.» Apparently, he also hid behind double-meaning words now.

» I hope I'm not getting flashbacks of the reviews of my performance in Pirates of Penzance next. It could definitely impair my ability to pretend I'm Archibald Jones in a satisfying way.», Jack continued, drenching his words in a tongue-in-cheek arrogance in order to move the conversation along .

« Don't tell me you are getting stage fright?», Phryne said, in a lively manner again, arranging the lapels of his jacket absentmindedly, now that he started to seem more like himself. It wasn't something she had done to tease him or to throw him off, it had been such an instinctive gesture, she didn't ponder on it until she had tighten her fingers again so the rings she was holding wouldn't fall on the floor and it was too late to hold back before it would seem strange.

«Just a dash, I think. But don't theatre actors say that very few things can match the thrill that comes from acting in front of the audience? I may not be in charge of some details», Jack said, pointing at her hand, which she still kept closed, « but I'm doing my best in other regards.»

« I hope the sight of these hasn't increased it. You promised you wouldn't get cold feet, remember?», she retorted, putting the rings in full view again and that mischievous grin on her face – oh, that mischievous grin.

«You would need to do something more ghastly for that.

» Besides, you already know I'm not afraid of commitment, Miss Fisher. », he said in a flirtatious tone, throwing caution in the wind for some seconds – they were faking a wedding portrait probably no one would notice if it wasn't in their pretend house for an undercover police operation; everything in that endeavour was bound to be somewhat surreal.

» May I?», Jack asked, drawing his eyes towards the rings and then back to Phryne.

«You may.», she replied, waiting to see what he would do next.

«Do you keep wedding rings laying about, Miss Fisher?», he asked again.

Jack had taken to asking a lot of questions lately, he noticed. But then, it was safer to present them than to have to give answers at this point.

« I bought this one at an antiques street market some time ago, just in case. We never know where detective work will lead us.»

He picked up the plain band, his fingers briefly brushing her hand, something that lead them both to try to conceal the sudden rush of heat that had enveloped them.

Phryne stretched out her left hand out like it was supposed for the bride to do. Jack took it in his and slid the ring alongside her finger until the silvery hoop was in place, his fingertips gliding on her skin again.

«I, Archie take you, thee …Fern.», Jack said, looking at her.

Fern, Phryne, Fern. Both names similar enough to stand side by side in his brain. Similar enough for him to have to take a moment and check before in order to say the correct one sometimes, lest a secret came out, as it had almost just happened.

«Fern takes you too, Archie.», she said with a smile, her hand still in his.

Archie. The running joke that had begun during his brief stint as a radio broadcaster for another undercover operation. At first, she had used the nickname to play a bit further with his call for help in the investigation, but over time it had turned from possibly annoying to a funny detail both had fully embraced, another interesting staple in the story of their complex relationship.

When it became clear that the official overt channels wouldn't be enough to investigate the three deaths in Elvsworth's presidential board any further, Commissioner Harker had assigned that case to Jack. His previous operation of the sort had been very successful and he considered him an outstanding policeman.

Someone posing as a single man would never be convincing enough to join that club unless his parents were already part of it, no matter how great the performance and how grand and well-crafted said man's story was. The Elvsworth was an elite club whose members defended a particular way of life and having a spouse was definitely the first step to it. Who would they enroll as his wife then? Even if none of the eight women with the Victoria Police were attached to that station, it could be arranged, but it turned out that despite his apparent boldness, there was a limit to the amount of backlash Harker was willing to tolerate – this wasn't a case concerning women or children's welfare and how could the Police maintain its reputation if, even in the course of their jobs, it was getting single women to pretend they were married? No, that he couldn't agree on.

«What about Miss Fisher then, Sir?», Jack had asked in one of the many meetings that took place in the Commissioner's office regarding that operation.

» She's an external consultant, not to mention how she has been of very helpful assistance in several cases.»

Jack was sure that in light of how she intervened in Police matters sometimes, Harker might not see things exactly through that perspective, but he was confident that the pile of solved cases since she had come to Melbourne would tip the scale their side.

«Miss Fisher?», he had said, tapping the fingers of his left hand on the top of his desk. Unlike Sanderson, who made sure to rely on the frequent mention of his rank to appear imposing, William Harker commanded a room as soon as he walked into a room and this wasn't only due to his height. As their conversation went by, he stood behind the desk, jacketless, with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to the elbows. Even if his job had a lot of politics and some public relations involved, this was a man of action, a policeman at heart who still took cases to investigate in spite of his high post.

«It could work, I guess», Harker continued. He was in his late 50s and his brown hair had started to lighten at the temples for some time but he still had young-ish features, which were displaying an approving expression in that moment.

» Our "collaboration"» – his deep voice gave a particular intonation to the word – «with Miss Fisher has had a few setbacks but, as you well point out, she has also helped to close at least a handful of cases.

» I'll agree to this but it this operation fails and/or Miss Fisher hinders more than what she helps, this is on me because I'm the commissioner, but this is also on you, Detective Inspector Robinson.»

«We will not let you down, sir. Thank you for the vote of confidence.»

When Jack asked her if Phryne wanted to be part of the operation, every aspect of the story had been previously discussed and determined within Harker's office walls, including the name he would take. He had been given a list of possible names and surnames but he hadn't needed to take a look at it - if she were to be his partner in all that, for him there hadn't been but one.

«What should I start calling you?», Phryne had asked.

«Archibald Jones. Archie, for short if you wish. I thought it would be easy to remember.»

An acknowledging smile shone from her face.

«Then my name will be Fern. It will be very easy to remember for you too, but this time it will involve less glittery leotards, I'm afraid.», she decided on the spot, bringing forward her own particular experience at being undercover.

Her words sent him to the day where she had come into his office and opened her trench-coat to reveal such particular outfit.

«And what about this?», she said, making him snap out of that memory. She had raised her hand again, the ring that would pass as Fern's engagement gift gleaming on her palm.

He picked up the ring, his fingers briefly brushing her hand, something that lead both to try to conceal the sudden rush of heat that had enveloped them.

As in true Miss Fisher's fashion, it was an elegant piece of jewelry: made in platinum, with an oval cabochon-cut 2.00-carat somewhat odd stone between step-down diamond shoulders – first with three small ones, than two, and finally one.

«Star sapphire», Jack said, regarding the grey stone, even if the pattern that gave it its name wasn't as marked as in some he had read about before – just faint traces on the upper right part of it.

» It matches your eyes perfectly, Miss Fisher.»

It was almost eerie how close the two colours were. That stormy, dignified grey that yet wasn't boring, conformed or modest as it was originally perceived of such a tone.

«That was the reason why I chose it in Paris three years ago.

» For now, I thought it could be a nice touch for an engagement ring.», she continued.

«Archie is a man of good taste, I guess.», he noted, looking at it and putting the ring around her finger until it was above the other, simpler band, their hearts beating faster and their breathing quickening with every faint, unavoidable touch bound to happen.

«And he wanted to work in advance as well. Did you know that the sapphire is the traditional gift for the 45th anniversary?», she revealed, hopefully appearing less ruffled.

«'Better safe than sorry', isn't that what people say?», replied Jack.

The Police might have designed their story but those little details that might make it more believable were unexpectedly coming from them as time went by: shaping the memory of a trip to Rome they hadn't taken, the way their house "in Scotland" had a door the creaked with a with a sound very similar to the song of a blackbird. Ending up staging wedding photos was unforeseen enough but something with the magnitude of the last few minutes was even more startling. All those concealed words and double-meanings were looming with a great deal of strength over their own lives, way beyond that simple and apparently harmless play. Obviously none of them was hoping to get married but they were aware that this sort of exchanges didn't ease anything, quite the contrary. Why couldn't they just take the damn picture and be done with it?

«Your bowtie is crooked. We can't have a groom with a crooked bowtie after all this fuss.»

Without giving much thought to it, Phryne started to untie it, the back of her hand so close to his chest. Jack swallowed dryly as if to divert his brain from the effects of such simple motion. She raised his shirt's collar and proceeded in a very efficient manner: crossing the two ends of the tie over each other, pulling the one now on the left a bit more and tying a knot, folding and holding the other until it looked bow-shaped.

«It's only missing half of it now», she announced, her eyes still fixated on the black pieces of fabric, dropping the loose end over the first bow and taking it under and up, putting it through the knot that it had made meanwhile.

«Is it looking better?», Jack asked, more to break the silence than out of care for the appearance of the tie. Her hands kept being so close to his body, lightly and briefly touching his chest, his neck, sometimes even his jaw and chin.

«Now it will.», Phryne said, her arms around his neck so she could put down the collar, the side of her thumbs grazing his skin but her stare still on the bowtie. Despite the fact that no words were said about that subject, the very small space between their bodies didn't go unremarked by either of them nor did the memory of the other similar moment that had happened in his office not that long ago.

Both felt compelled to lean forward and kiss at last – a proper kiss this time, a kiss without the argument of 'safety reasons' underneath - , leaving all the doubts they had harboured and put an end to the expectation building inside them and to all the failed attempts they regretted so much, compelled to do the exact opposite of what had happened until then.

Phryne's arms were still around Jack's neck. He kept his alongside his frame at great cost, because all he wanted to do was to hold her in them. Their eyes darted from the other's to their lips and once again to their eyes and then back to their lips again. Jack noticed suddenly that he had actually stopped breathing. Phryne took a deep breath.

Why now? Why this man? She was also torn between the conflicting feelings that charade had forced to come forward. She knew they were there, pressing against her ribcage from now and then, that window of time getting smaller every time they did, but this insane situation that, at first had promised to be nothing more than fun and a way to get some justice , had brought them over her, made her have to ponder on them once more, with a poignancy she had rarely saw fit in the course of their relationship (a word she had some trouble using because it didn't seem to encapsulate the many layers of their bond).  _It's all fun and games until someone loses their heart_ , she paraphrased mentally. They were getting themselves closer to the fire, without knowing if it was time to stop or even if there would ever be a time to stop. And yet she had to go and look at his warm eyes and then look at his stupid crooked bowtie because Phryne Fisher wasn't the kind of woman to balk in front of a challenge but the playful yet tender smile on his face had been almost too much to bear.

Nevertheless, they weren't so enthralled they had completely forgotten the reasons why they hadn't given in to those impulses before. It wasn't the right time once again – it was never the right time – and who knew the consequences that could have come from such an action.

«The clock is ticking», said Jack eventually, pointing out something that there was no need to, given that the swing of the pendulum of the watch was the only thing heard in those minutes.

«It's good now», Phryne said, straightening each side of the bowtie.

»Archibald Jones makes a very dashing groom.

» Dot!», she called out almost immediately after that remark.

«I'm on my way, Miss.», the girl said somewhere from beyond the open back door, her steps on the tiles outside signaling she was getting closer to the house. When Dot walked into the kitchen, her arms were full with freshly picked flowers and leaves taken directly from the garden she and Mr. Butler tended to very devotedly.

Despite her load, she managed to close the door and put the flowers carefully on the table, walking towards them afterwards, hoping the agitation that had just shaken her wasn't visible in her expression.

«Could you spare just some moments more, Miss? Your bouquet isn't ready yet – I thought it was best to not make it much in advance or the flowers might start withering.»

«I guess we'll have to wait then.», Phryne said, looking quickly at her companion and then back at Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this new chapter. I'm really sorry for not having been able to update sooner, but I hope you find it was worth the wait.
> 
> I'm sorry if it sounds pretentious, but I must confess I'm curious about what people may think of it, considering that ever since it started to take shape in mind, even before writing a single word, I've been torn between considering it 'fan-servicey' but maybe interesting to 'fan-servicey' and certainly terrible.
> 
> Please allow me to remind you that I tried to be as accurate as possible both regarding canon and historical facts but it's easier said than done sometimes, especially because some details are all over the place in the show (like timelines) and others aren't even mentioned and the first may influence the latter (as well some bumps in research). Please forgive any inaccuracies derived from these circumstances.
> 
> It almost goes without saying that your comments/reviews/kudos will be highly appreciated. Thank you in advance, both for them and for your attention.


	7. Intermezzo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a side-paragraph or two, but I'm afraid I got a bit carried away. That's why I don't even call it a chapter. I hope you don't find it too much of a bore. The dinner chapter will be next, I promise.

_A hot flush of embarrassment shot through Dot's cheeks every time she came across the photographs of Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson she had taken that afternoon, a feeling particularly sharp because one of the reasons of such agitation was unwillingly more or less in the centre of every picture and it was nearly impossible to not have one's eye fixed on it even in the course of the briefest of glimpses._

_It didn't have anything to do with the particular quality of the results, but with a certain detail. Contrarily to what she expected, Dot had been more at ease with the photographer's role she had been assigned than what she would have guessed. Some months ago, she would have dreaded it a great deal, but now she had regarded it in a curious-filled light._

_(Thankfully, the other picture which elicited such a reaction didn't have that particular element as well or it would have been too much. But she digressed… she meant to think about it as little as she could.)_

_«Dot, I'm going to get married today.», Miss Fisher had announced that morning between two bites of toast when she had brought the breakfast tray to her new room at number 17 on Christopher Crescent._

_She was aware that this undercover operation would entail her employer pretending to be married to Inspector Robinson, but she thought every detail had  long_ _been_ _taken care of and there was no need to put on a false wedding as well._

_«How so, Miss?», she asked, pouring some tea and making her doubts known._

_«People take photographic evidence more seriously than paper trails sometimes. It's very Saint Thomas-like of them. No offense meant. », Miss Fisher said, looking at her, before another bite of the toast._

_Dot smiled shyly and nodded._

_» So we're going to give them exactly that.»_

_Her employer's eyes sparkled brightly, a look Dot recognised as the thrill that came with having a new case in her hands, her mind scanning through all angles it could have and the many ways to turn its uncertainties in proven facts._

_«I need you to help me.»_

_The girl nodded, waiting to know how._

_«Somewhere I think I have a dress that can work, but I'll still need a veil, a bouquet, and a photographer. I'm sure you'll excel at all of them.», Miss Fisher said with a warm smile across her lips._

_Dot knew she wasn't trying to flatter her insincerely, but hearing those words made her cheeks get a little red nevertheless._

_After the meal, they got the silk tulle from the House of Fleuri_ _,_ _where Madame Simone and Madame Renée had had a hard time swallowing that they wanted the fabric but not the expertise of the most skilled «_ les petites mains»  _of Australia. The complaint was easily put down though when Miss Fisher had said she had chosen to go there out of respect and appreciation for their work and the exquisite quality of the materials they used, but she could always go to Mr. Dobson's atelier to get what she wanted._

(Mesdames Fleuri took offense in the fact that one of their most loyal clients might think that an Englishman - an English man! - would be a better haute-couturier than them, but saying so out loud could be like handing her to him, and that they would never do, affinity for well-cut trousers aside.)

_The work to be done on the veil was quite simple – cut it and hem it, basically – but the tulle was so delicate, one could not be too careful, so Dot took a little bit longer than what her abilities normally afforded her to._

_She had then tidied up and arranged the dress her employer would wear and helped her fetch the accessories needed to compose that particular look._

_Miss Fisher had chatted joyfully as always as they worked, but she got a little quitter once or twice when the conversation had drifted in Inspector Robinson's direction._

_There had been some months since Dot had noticed that there was something between them that went over the limits of their professional relationship. Truth be told, it wasn't something that hard to puzzle out for someone who stood in the same room as them if only for five minutes, but now that she was aware of their connection, she couldn't help but wonder sometimes how oblivious she must have been back then. Their conversation ran smoothly, the references they brought up tied their bond, the energy in the air changed when they were together. Miss Fisher had hinted once or twice to her about the shift in their situation, but even if she had never delved much into it, Dot could see that things would never be simple and easy._

_Did she root for them to get out of that standstill? She did, even if she acknowledged that she wasn't surely in the possession of all the circumstances and facts that kept them in such a precarious position. More than anything, she wanted Miss Fisher to be happy, whether with the Inspector in her life – in any capacity – or no._

_Dot was so grateful to Miss Fisher's she was afraid she might never be able to convey how much. She had told her sometimes, but was afraid her words weren't precise enough. Without knowing anything about her, Miss Fisher had offered to help when she had been taken to questioning over the poison in the sugar and when she had appeared desperate in her room at The Hotel Windsor, she had given her a job even after she had been dismissed from the previous one without a reference and for this she would always be indebted. Yet, she would be more so because of how much richer and interesting her life was since they had met as well. Dot still saw a settled life in her future – and she really welcomed those moments where she cooked and sew and listened to the radio plays she liked so much in peace after a busy day of investigation and chores - , but she knew now that there was much more out there, even if she wasn't still completely at ease with some less orthodox choices of her employer._

_« Would you need me to help you some more in here? It's ten to noon, perhaps it would be best if the bouquet starts getting taken care of, Miss.»_

_«Oh, yes, Dot! How time flies.», Miss Fisher said, turning to her after she had set the brooch on the right shoulder of the dress in place._

_» I'll finish the last details myself. Thank you, Dot.», she continued, facing her until she closed the door._

_Dot was about to go to the garden when the front door bell rang and called her back to the hallway._

_«Good morning, Inspector.», she greeted, reaching out to take his overcoat and his hat. He was already dressed formally. Once side by side, she was sure they would look like the moving pictures stars she saw in the magazines._

_«Good morning, Miss Williams.»_

_«Miss Fisher will be right down. Can I get you anything while you wait?»_

_«No, thank you._

_» Miss Williams, I'm sorry to bring it up again, I know you already replied to this on the phone but do you have more information about why does Miss Fisher want me here at this hour?»_

_«She really prefers to be the one to tell you, Inspector. I'm sorry I can't help you, but I'm sure you understand her.»_

_The inspector had nodded silently._

_«Now, if you excuse me, I have some things Miss Fisher asked me to take care of. Feel at home, please.», she said._

_«Oh, yes. I don't mean to keep you from your tasks. I'll wait here for her.»_

_Dot left him in the hallway, standing in front of the mirror, wrestling with his bowtie._

_S_ _he had always liked flowers, found the beauty and grace of the golden wattle that sheltered the small backyard of her family's house from the sun, the rhododendron around the church and the bottlebrushes in the garden nearby another undeniable proof of God's existence, an opinion she had held ever since she was very young. But Dot's fascination with them had deepened even more when she learnt they could have a secret connotation, the subtle language they could convey. She doubted that Father Grogan would approve if word got around the parish that someone had received a handful of red, coral and orange roses, the subtext overshadowing the delicacy of the petals and the richness of the colours, but she was astonished with the range of possible meanings nevertheless._

_As she walked amongst the garden plots, her keen eye quickly selected which flowers and shrubberies would make a beautiful bouquet. But when after having picked some bowenia, camellia, and leather leaf fern, she folded her knees and leaned towards the first bloom she had chosen, Dot stopped suddenly, a stem already between the open blades of the pair of scissors she was holding. Hit by the unexpected realisation, her eyes widened and her cheeks reddened a little. Her first impulse was to change her choice immediately. Even if she had grown braver over the last months she would never be able to face Miss Fisher and the Inspector with a neutral expression if she moved forward and presented such flowers._

_Yet, a faint glimmer of hope started to take hold of her – maybe she wasn't very familiar with that secret language! But Dot couldn't be so sure, Miss Fisher was knowledgeable about so many themes she could definitely imagine decoding this sort of messages as being part of her skill_ _set. Perhaps she wasn't as uninterested in the fate of Miss Fisher and the Inspector's relationship as she had believed…_

_Dot straightened her back and looked around, trying to come up with alternatives, but her sensibility didn't seem to let her find other suitable ones, even if she put the significance question aside. She was proud of how the garden looked, but the African violets were purple, the dahlias sort of blueish, the dutch irises were yellow, there were some white snapdragons amidst the colourful flowerbeds but they would be too tall, and while the fullness of the hydrangeas looked good in a vase, it wouldn't go very well with the style of the appropriate bouquet._

_She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and then looked at her wristwatch. 12.07 o'clock. Miss Fisher had probably come down already; she couldn't keep her waiting anymore._

I'm sure you'll excel.  _Dot couldn't shake away the words Miss Fisher had told her that morning, the trust she had coated them with, and as she remembered them once again she knew._

_In order to excel, she knew she would have with her first instinct, any hidden significances aside, she concluded, a deep breath punctuating her resolution. After that had been settled, she didn't need much time to gather a handful of white gardenias, peonies, and spray roses._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I hope you enjoyed this little detour. I guess I couldn't stop fussing about all the details in the wedding picture scenario and just throw a bunch of random flowers in Phyrne's hands.
> 
> I'd like to thank two people (not including any reference because I'm not sure if they would mind it or not) for their assistance regarding Australian flora, particularly helpful in that bit about the flowers in Dot's environment apart from St. Kilda. Any mistakes derived from interpreting their advice are on me though.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this and for your support throughout these weeks. As usual, your comments/reviews/messages/kudos/the works are very appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support over this time, for all the views, comments and interesting conversations that spun from them.
> 
> As promised, here's the chapter where Phryne and Jack have dinner with the Yateses at last. I hope it lives up to your expectations.
> 
> I'd like to add that Wendell Yates is not supposed to be related to Cec at all. This surname had been on my notes for a while and, to be honest, I didn't even remember Cec's when I decided on it. Because I seem to have some trouble in changing a character's name once everything is in place, I decided to keep it in this story.

Jack had been pacing in front of the big bay window of the living room with his hands in his pockets for about twenty minutes.

From time to time, he stole a glance at the brass clock on the mantelpiece and at the photograph they had put on top of the piano that afternoon, amongst the ones Mr. Butler had found shoved in a drawer of the guest bedroom, old enough for them to hope that neither Yates nor his wife would recognise the persons depicted.

He knew better than to look at it but he kept feeling drawn to it nevertheless. Dot had been afraid she might ruin something at first – the camera, the photograph or the operation -, but she had learnt Miss Fisher's directions pretty quickly and the result was quite good. And yet this wasn't the main reason why his gaze was compelled to the contents of that silver frame.

Eight more steps from the left to the right of the room. Another look at the clock. Eight more steps from the right to the left of the room. Another look at the picture.

The portrait showed Phryne standing a bit ahead of him, both with their bodies slightly turned to the side yet still facing the lens. Her head was a little tilted towards his, a warm grin across her face and a more reserved but genuine smile on his.

As he looked at that image, he remembered the way her words had guided him, the feeling of her shoulder rubbing on his chest as she moved around to find the perfect pose. Jack lifted his hand and touched that same exact spot with his fingers, over the placket of his dress shirt. What they tried to conceal from themselves – from themselves and/or from the world, he wasn't quite sure – shone through the photograph and one didn't even need to look very hard to find it. There was no tension in their muscles, no smile that bent the corners of their mouths but that didn't reach their eyes, no obvious evidence that that picture was anything other than a memento of a loving couple's wedding day.

He resumed walking back and forward, trying to compose himself, to store those doubts in a remote corner of his mind and to prepare to inhabit Archibald Jones' role.

« Are you trying to wear out the floor or to break in new shoes?», Phryne said amusingly, pausing from reading the magazine she had in her hands to turn to him.

Despite paying attention to the some of the pages, when she was just flicking through the sections that didn't interest her, she had caught him looking at their picture once or twice through the reflection on the mirror. As he seemed to do, Phryne didn't dare to look at it much; there were more pressing matters at hand, so it was best to direct their minds towards them as soon as possible.

«Am I that transparent?» he said, sitting on the sofa in front of her eventually.

« Occasionally. Now you are, if you're trying to imbue some realism into the proceedings. I'm sure people are a bundle of anxiety when they're waiting for the mighty Wendell Yates to come and visit.», she said, raising an eyebrow.

Jack smiled.

» Should I ask Mr. Butler to make you one of his famous cocktails? I'm sure that's also what people do when they are in this situation.»

«No, thank you. Perhaps it's best if I save it for later.»

He shot another glance at the clock. 7h25.

The house had been thoroughly cleaned and arranged, Dot and Mr. Butler had prepared an exquisite meal and set the French oak dining table with the finest linens, china, glassware, and silverware brought specifically from the St. Kilda home.

Jack was wearing his dinner jacket twice in the same day for the first time in his life and Phryne looked resplendent in an elegant dusty rose silk chiffon dress worn over a slip in the same colour. He had tried his best not to look too gobsmacked when he had seen her come out of the master bedroom, on his left, still fastening one of the drop diamond and pearl earrings in the precise moment when he had gotten out of the guest lodgings.

She had set her headquarters at Christopher Crescent – it was best to have someone home at all most times, just in case -, but he still went back to Cinder Street every night. In that afternoon, he had appeared at the promised two o'clock on the doorstep holding a suitcase in his hand, after having gone back to work once the pictures had been taken. Unwilling to rumple his dinner clothes with another motorcar drive, he had ironed and stored the dark suit and the white shirt carefully following his mother's directions, seamstress' tricks taught long ago, and asked if he could change there.

«Miss Fisher», he had said.

«Jack!», she had called, a bit startled. She hadn't noticed the next door opening.

» The rings!», she had said an instant after. Seeing him had reminded her that Fern's rings were still on her vanity table and she went back inside her room to fetch them.

Knowing it wouldn't take much time, he had waited for her in the hallway, in front the door, hearing the heels of her silver shoes on the floor as she walked and taking a surreptitious glance at the inside. He didn't exactly want to stand there and look but his curiosity had been lured by the mild but pleasant aroma of her perfume and of the bergamot lotion she had smoothed her skin with.

It was a well-sized aqua-coloured room with another bay window in the wall ahead from there one could see the downhill of the front lawn extending up to the fence, framed by pleated velvet curtains in dark teal and a light layer of tulle that could be shut in order to keep away unwanted gazes.

Perpendicularly to the door, there was a dark rosewood Louis XV-style large bed with a high headboard and a carved _rinceau_  motif along the rails, covered by a matching teal velvet bedspread, a bolster and three throw pillows dressed in the same fabric.

Peach-coloured two-piece silk pyjamas had been laid on the bed, next to the  _chinoiserie_  dressing gown in black with detailed stitched birds and floral motifs in beige, coral, green, and red he had seen her already wear before. On the floor was a pair of marabou slippers in the same shade of the sleeping things.

Jack had wanted to avert his eyes, turn his back on that tempting open door but the interest that had lead him to look in first didn't seem to wither with his objections.

Meanwhile Phryne had walked towards the vanity table, a beautiful piece of furniture surmounted with a rosewood-framed mirror and with a grand marble top which was covered with the bottles of her French perfume, her creams, and her make up, tucked in the corner between the window and one of the side tables in the same style of the bed. She grabbed the rings and turned around, their gazes meeting again when she had done so.

«There's no need to stay there. Do come in if you want.

» If we leave the door open, it can't be considered scandalous, can it? The type of clothing present in the scene notwithstanding », she had said, still looking at him, pointing discreetly to the garments Dot had just brought from the laundry, having noticed his quick glance at them.

«Perhaps it's best if we stay above any possible reproach, for the time being at least, Miss Fisher, the type of clothing present in the scene notwithstanding.», he had replied, holding her stare.

«If I didn't know you weren't always such a spoilsport, I could believe you were completely against fun.», Phryne had said, walking towards him, whilst putting Fern's rings around her fingers.

«I'm very glad we know each other well enough to see beyond first impressions, then.», he had said, offering her his arm.

«I am too.», she had agreed, taking it before they were side by side already on their way through the foyer to the drawing room.

7h27. Jack got up from the sofa and went near the window. Phryne kept reading, only stopping when Mr. Butler had come in to inform that everything that could be taken care of in advance of the dinner was ready.

«The only thing missing are the guests.», Mr. Butler concluded, with a slightly gleeful tone in his voice.

« Not anymore.», Jack announced when he saw a dark green motorcar park a bit before the gate.

Phryne closed her magazine, stored it in the dark Viennese Thonet rack by the sofa, got up and grabbed her pearl elbow-length gloves from the back of the couch. She put them on and checked her look in the mirror over the fireplace one last time. Her red lipstick had carefully been applied, the diamond bandeau in her hair was in place. The kimono-like sleeves of the dress opened from shoulder to wrist and fell alongside her body, revealing her arms when she moved, the tips of the inner ends secured in the front a bit below waist-level by two enamel and white gold flower brooches. From where the v-shaped neckline of the gown ended the fabric was molded into a slightly asymmetrical draped skirt that went down to her chins - the effect less heavy to the eye by the fact that the slip ended before that.

« You look wonderful», Jack said when he passed by her on his way to the foyer. He had almost added  _Phryne_  to those words for some reason, perhaps lead by the same boldness that had taken over him in that moment. He had thought she looked magnificent many times and in many outfits – including without any make-up and in  _that_  chinoiserie dressing gown – but out of shyness he had never uttered a word about it.

«I know.», she replied with a smile, following him.

» But thank you.», Phryne continued, a bit surprised by the compliment; coming from him, it had seemed rather audacious.

The disk on the record player had come to an end meanwhile and the present silence allowed them to hear Mr and Mrs Yates' steps on the sandstone floor. They seemed to be in the middle of the second staircase.

«Will you please open the door, Mr Butler? I think they would like to know they were acknowledged before they had to ring.», Phryne asked.

He assented to the request right away, but Phryne and Jack paused for an instant before getting out.

«Ready?», she asked Jack, who was standing right by her side, looking at him.

«Ready. You?»

Phryne let out a small laugh.

«Let's go, then.»

**xxx**

They hadn't had a chance to talk about how the dinner was going so far yet, but both Phryne and Jack were satisfied with its progress and tried to convey it through the surreptitious looks they were able to briefly exchange. They were seating in front of each other, Phryne with Yates by her side and Jack with Olympia by his.

Perhaps warmed by the gin rickeys expertly prepared by 'Mr. Brewer', the conversation had run smoothly after a small halt once the guests had arrived, Olympia Yates had been introduced and the initial remarks about what a wonderful house the Jones' had had been made. The enthusiastic reaction to the drinks had prompted Jack to say:

«I hope you're not thinking of stealing our butler and hire him as the new Elvsworth barman, are you?»

The humorous comment seemed to lighten the mood and launch them in an agreeable conversation that kept going on so in the dining room, a dark red area with elegant furniture, another imposing marble fireplace and fine oil paintings on the walls, following Mr. Butler's announcement that the meal was served.

They talked generally about Archibald and Yates' jobs – the afternoon training Jack had applied himself to on specific terms, graphics, and other data had been very helpful - , Fern and Olympia's charity work and travels, the Melbourne Symphonic Orchestra concerts they had gone to at the Melbourne Town Hall over the last months, but golf revealed to be quite an intense theme.

In terms of the food presented so far, things seemed to be going well too. The guests had appeared very impressed with the caviar served as hors d'oevres, while Mr. Butler and Dot, who would be playing 'Daisy' for the evening given that just to be sure Phryne and Jack had seen better to conceal their real identities, prepared the  _Consommé Alexandra_  that would be brought from the kitchen afterwards. The ' _Mousseline de Saumon À La Tosca'_  had been praised for its delicate taste and by the how pleasantly it looked on the plate.

The guests were enjoying the last forkfuls of ' _Côtelettes a la Provençale'_  garnished with  _'timbales of rice à la grecque'_ , when Yates started to shift the focus of the conversation from other themes usually prone to be chit-chat fodder to Archibald and Fern's lives previously to their wish to join the Elvsworth Club.

«If I remember correctly, you mentioned in the previous time we met that you were born in Melbourne, Mr Jones? Isn't that so?»

«Yes, I was, but my family moved to Egypt when I was very young.»

At first, Jack and Commissioner Harker had thought that creating a full story set in the city would be easier to keep under control, but the more they investigated about the members of the club, the more they realised that it was only an illusion. Too many of them were more or less of Jack's age and would have attended the schools Jones was supposed to and moved in the circles that should be his as well.

«I came back to Melbourne once I finished my education in Sydney, after the war, and I stayed here until I got involved in the study in Scotland.»

Phryne observed Yates' reaction, trying to figure out if he was convinced by this broad telling of Archibald Jones' life. He seemed to be so, but he could always be simply standing back and let Jack dig himself into a deeper hole.

«Did you enjoy living in Egypt?», asked Olympia. Despite having met for more than an hour, Phryne still didn't know exactly what to think of her.

« I did. I have fond memories of the long warm afternoons, how imposing the pyramids are when one sees them with their own eyes, the vivacity of the street markets.»

As Jack spoke, he noticed that these 'fond memories' were perhaps too cliché, nothing that would actually seem to have been lived. It looked like he hadn't paid as much attention as he had believed to Deputy Commissioner Cahill's conversations about the time he had been stationed in Egypt during the War. The military part of those times was kept to a minimum but he enjoyed talking about the country, its history, and living there. Perhaps it was best to look for him and brush up those details, just in case Yates thought it would be a good topic to bring up at Elvsworth, if they ever got accepted.

« Why Egypt? Was there any particular reason?», Olympia asked.

«My father was a civil servant, in fact. »

The workforce needed to keep the empire running was so extensive and spread across such vast lands they were counting on it to provide a proper family story for his character.

« And you, Mrs. Jones? Were you born in Melbourne as well?», asked Yates, turning his attention to Phryne now.

« I was, but I didn't live here for long either.»

«A public servant parent?», asked Olympia.

Considering Yates' reaction towards herself, Phryne had already pondered on it maybe being a reflection of how he thought women should behave. She acknowledged there was a chance it might not be a fair assessment, but in light of it, she had pictured his wife to be a quiet, soft-spoken woman. Yet, despite Olympia Yates' gracefulness, her steps were imbued in confidence and she didn't shy away from voicing her high regard of Mr. Butler's cocktails or the easiness with which she was asking that kind of questions alongside her husband.

«Boarding school.», Phryne replied.

« How curious! I went to boarding school too.

» Is there any chance we may have almost met at the Presbyterian Ladies' College in Melbourne?»

Olympia's hazel eyes were fixed on Phryne, their colour set off by the rust tone of her dress. Her short wavy blond hair was adorned by a diamond hair clip that matched the earrings pending from her ears, which flickered with the light coming from the Crystal chandelier hung above the table.

« I'm sure we would have gotten along famously if we had met there», Miss Fisher said, putting on her best smile, « but I went to boarding school in England. »

» Roedean, in fact.»

Phryne talked naturally, she hoped, after having had to change the story midway: in theory, Fern would have attended the exact school Olympia had gone to. Perhaps it was too risky to draw inspiration from her own life, but it was the first name that came across her head to fill the silence that followed the English boarding school confession and to satisfactorily reply to the eager look on her guests' faces.

«And now you are back in Melbourne.», concluded Yates.

«And now we are back in Melbourne.», Jack repeated with a somewhat strained smile, that he tried to recompose as soon as he noticed that it had been his reaction to this departure from the original story.

» Hopefully to stay. Fern and I would very much like to.», he continued, looking at Phryne, who smiled at him a grin so truthful he didn't stumble in his words nor did he look away. He couldn't do so, and it wasn't simply because it might look suspicious.

«We think the Elvsworth can be a fixture in this life we want to build for ourselves here.», Phryne said.

« You are very "dangerous", if I may say so like this, aren't you, Mrs. Jones?», Yates had on his face an expression of masked contempt Phryne didn't like .

«I don't think there's anything dangerous in wanting to join a club of civilised, well-mannered, and well-connected people. Do you?», she replied.

» But if that's the case. We thank you for your warning before committing ourselves to such decision.»

Antagonising Yates wasn't exactly the way things were supposed to go, but that remark had thrown her over the edge, more than what she would have thought if presented with a brief outline of the situation beforehand. Phryne was then glad that Mr. Butler and Dot were clearing the table and brushing off any crumbs left at table with a silver crumb scraper onto a tray held under the edge before serving dessert.

« I confess I'm asking too many questions, but you must forgive me and allow me one more, if you'd be so kind. », Olympia said already with the  _Glace Carmen_  in front of her. Service was running as efficiently and elegantly as planned, but in face of the somewhat awkward exchange between Miss Fisher and Mr. Yates, they had sped the proceedings slightly, enough to overcome it without compromising the overall impression.

» Well, I can't exactly promise it will be the last question of all, because I have to acknowledge I'm of a very curious nature, but it will be the last for now, at least.», she continued, with a not that unapologetic look on her face.

» I'm sorry if I seem too nosy, but you two are so interesting it left me wondering: How did you meet?», Olympia asked eventually, her eyes darting from the host to the hostess.

Phryne and Jack exchanged another look. More than something that Archie and Fern could do, it had been an impulse neither of them could have avoided no matter how much they would have tried.

_At a ball, introduced by distant family members that were friends. As soon as we met, everything clicked and we both knew we'd marry someday._

_«_  At a tea party that didn't take place in the end due to unforeseen circumstances.»

Phryne's gaze shifted from Olympia's face to Jack's. He had lowered his eyes but was smiling despite her digression from the script.

» We both wanted the bathroom. I apologise, we are still at the table, but that's how the story went.», she continued with a shrug in the end.

» He didn't seem very thrilled with my presence, but deep down I think he was curious about me.»

«We didn't get along that day but something or someone must really want us to because we met again in a train to Ballarat the week after.», Jack said, speaking as if no one else was in the room but Phryne.

« I'm glad I passed down the opportunity to meet a 'distinguished dental technician' to meet a rather civilised statistician then that day.»

«From that moment on, I had to come to terms with the fact that we would never be away from each other for long.», Jack said in a tone that showed that he didn't regret it being so.

« I do like a man with a plan.»

Since they had started taking, the Yateses had kept quiet. Or so Phryne and Jack had the feeling.

«What a lovely story.

» I'm glad I asked.», Olympia said with a little laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for reading this chapter. As said above, I hope you enjoyed it, even if it probably ended up being more focused on Phryne and Jack than exactly on the risk of the discovery of their identities even before being accepted in Elvsworth, but after 8 chapters, you've probably already noticed why I'm writing this.  
> I never read the books and I must acknowledge I don't remember if any particular school was ever mentioned when it comes to Phryne's academic life, so forgive me if it happened, but please be so kind as to accept Roedean in this universe. 
> 
> The dishes mentioned were taken from "A Guide to Modern Cookery" by Georges Auguste Escoffier and I have no idea if having these flavours in the same meal would make sense because they were basically chosen based upon the ingredients and photos I found online, but I tried to have them served in the correct order at least. I believe I read somewhere that Kerry Greenwood is very particular in her descriptions of food, but this will have to do for the time being, I'm afraid.
> 
> As usual, please forgive any possible inaccuracies derived from possible failings in research in this and in other contexts.
> 
> If you feel inclined to do so, please feel free to leave a kudo, a comment or to send me a message. I enjoy them immensely and always appreciate hearing from you.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read this story even if the updates aren't as frequent as everyone (both you and me) would like, but sometimes writing isn't simply 'happening' for many reasons.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the following chapter.

Now that the guests were off, Phryne had gone to the kitchen to tell Dot and Mr. Butler that they could finish for the day and conclude taking care of the dishes the next day if they wanted. None of them seemed very keen on taking her offer though, so she left the room behind, unwilling to keep them from their task.

She was walking up the stairs that lead to the hallway when the she started to hear the sound of a piano. Knowing very well the part of the house it came from, she tiptoed up the remaining steps and across the hall until she was by the doorframe of the drawing room, standing in an angle that allowed her to not be easily seen from the inside, even if Jack was visibly focused on what he was doing.

The chandelier had been turned off and the room was only lit by the small matching crystal and bronze wall sconces placed on strategic points and by the glow that came from the blaze in the fireplace. It made the drawing room seem not so large anymore, cozy even, something it rarely conveyed despite how luxurious it was.

Jack was playing the vertical piano set against the wall between the windows. From where Phryne stood, she could see his profile, his left hand and the tip of his right fingers lightly pressing the keys as if to make them sound quieter, his back straight but not stiff.

It felt strange to lurk in the dark like that even if he seemed so at ease, but it also felt odd to disturb him, something Phryne become aware of when she realized she was unable to both take her eyes off him and also to walk towards him or to call his attention somehow.

Olympia and Yates had left about an hour ago and he could have easily followed suit, but was still there. They hadn't been able to discuss the dinner in much detail yet, but there was certainly more to it. He was waiting for their nightcap perhaps.  _Definitely waiting for their nightcap_ , Phryne believed, hoping it wouldn't sound extremely pretentious, especially because she regarded it in a similar way.

He didn't stop playing but she noticed that it the melody had turned into a new song. Still trying to make as less noise and be as less intrusive as she could, she tiptoed her way to the piano.

When she was about a foot away, Jack looked over his left shoulder but he kept the music going, the look on his face denouncing that he was surprised by her presence there but didn't mind it at all. Phryne sat next to him in the bit of the stool that was available, her back turned to the piano and her legs slightly bent under the seat.

 _«Though I know that we meet every night / And we couldn't have changed since the last time_ », Phryne sung, well but not in a not very loud tone, nudging him playfully.

« _To my joy and delight / It's a new kind of love at first sight_ », Jack ended up conceding, still looking at her, a somewhat shy smile on his face, making a little pause after the last words.

« _Though it's you and it's I all the time / Every meeting's a marvelous pastime_ », their voices perfectly matched in pace for the following lines of the lyrics, despite the fact that they felt the weight of each verse.

« _Oh, the moon's not a moon for a night /and these stars will not twinkle and fade out,/ and the words in my ears /will resound for the rest of my years /In the morning I find with delight /not a note of our music is played out._ », the song went at some point.

Jack looked at Phryne. None of them said anything, but in their minds both acknowledged that they should have perhaps put an end to the singing before it had taken such a path. They seemed to know the all the lines, so they had to be conscious of their theme, of how those words were dangerously close to their reality and yet they had chosen to continue. Despite it all, 'Let's Misbehave' had seemed much vaguer, filled with 'we's which were applied broadly, one 'I' and a couple of 'you's thrown in there for good measure.

He wasn't exactly a believer of such things, but it was hard to not start wondering if it wasn't indeed true that something or someone must really want them to be together.

«  _I'm touching your hand / It tells that you're standing near, and / at the sound of your voice / heaven opens its portals to me. / Can I help but rejoice /that a song such as ours came to be? / But I always knew /I would live life through /with a song in my heart for you_.»

On her side of the stool, Phryne wasn't as apologetic and regretful as she felt perhaps she should. It was a recurring thought, but how could it not be when the circle was getting tighter and tighter and it was even more difficult to avoid this frame of thought.

Jack played the last note and said, turning to her:

« I heard this on the wireless yesterday night and it got stuck in my head, I'm afraid.»

They were standing close to each other once again. So close they would touch even if they didn't mean to and both seemed aware of that, considering that they kept as quiet as they could be.

« It's a great song, there's no need to apologise.», she replied with a smile on her face, « and I think our rendition was nearly perfect.»

« I am in no place to judge.», he replied playfully.

» I think the dinner went well, wouldn't you agree?»

Phryne was a bit taken aback by the sudden change of theme. It wasn't completely out of tone, but, at the same time, she expected them to linger on other matters for a while more.

« I do. It was agreeable and I hope to hear soon from Yates. He still has to take the paperweight after all.»

« For a moment I thought we might have lost him, though.»

«The man just gets under my nerves. And not in a good way.», Phryne said, stretching her hands in the air.

«He told me he wanted a second opinion about the paperweight, so I guess you'll have to endure having him here at least another time.»

« Are you teasing me, Jack?», she asked not seriously at all.

«You can't always be the one doing so, Miss Fisher.», he said with an amused smile on his face.

» I guess Yates needs as much validation as the perspective members of the Elvsworth.»

« Do you think he has had anything to do with the murders?», Phryne asked more seriously.

It was odd to notice how little they had talked about the investigation, considering it was the inception of those circumstances and of utmost importance. Three people had died, after all.

«He may have, I believe it's too soon to tell. The investigation the police carried about the victims' lives didn't find out many details that might indicate motive for murder but the part of their stories connected with their participation in the Elvsworth keeps being rather vague so far. Even if it's only speculation at this point, I wouldn't rule out completely that we may not have many suspects now because we may simply haven't met them yet.»

« Even considering it is a private club, there's a lot of secrecy around it.», Phryne acknowledged.

» If they end up accepting Fern and Archibald - as they will absolutely do – the Elvsworth better be as good as advertised.»

Jack smiled.

«I'm sure Wendell Yates' first and foremost concern will be matching your expectations, Miss Fisher.»

Those 'Miss Fisher's with which he finished some sentences were sounding more and more out of place as of late. For Jack, at first, they had come out of his politeness and in part they still did, but he wondered sometimes if they weren't also an unconscious way to keep some distance, to remind them both of the particular context of their relationship, to keep them in check.

During the past weeks, Phryne had considered telling him that he could call her by her Christian name whenever he wanted, not only when in distress or in extreme moments when he wanted to catch her attention as he had done so far. She had been on a first name-basis with him for the most part of their acquaintance, hadn't she? Yet, Phryne still hadn't said a word, wishing perhaps he would do so on his own accord eventually.

«Would you like something to drink?», she asked.

«I'm afraid I had my fair share for today, between the aperitif, dinner, and having to keep company to Yates in the dining room after the ladies left.»

«Oh, it's true! How could I have almost forgotten… How did that go?», Phryne asked, rearranging herself on the stool, folding her right leg under herself so she could face him even more directly now.

«Well enough, I guess? But it didn't help much to advance the investigation, I'm afraid.»

Jack had turned his body too, so they were looking even more squarely at each other.

» Thankfully, he didn't want to go to the billiards room and play, so it was a favourable start but after some political conversation and paperweight-showing we joined you in the parlour.

»How about Olympia? Was she more cooperative?»

« Not exactly, I would say. She mentioned how devoted to the Elvsworth her husband is – there was no need to say it because he simply glows when he talks about it – and the deep impact the deaths had on him, work-wise and beyond. He has put his accountacy office on hold for the moment because everything at the Elvsworth was in shambles and he couldn't in his heart let such historical institution falter.

» I also learnt they have been married for 12 years and have an 8-year-old son. Hardly anything we didn't know already.», she said with a shrug.

«We must have patience.», Jack said to appease both of them it turned out. She might be slightly more vocal about it, but he didn't need to think much to discover he was tired of that long process too. If the Joneses were accepted at the Elvsworth good, they would have a new development from which to draw their investigation, if not, the sooner it was known the better, so the Police could come up with other ways to find the answers they had been looking for.

The conversation came to a halt and he appeared rather restless, his jaw shut tensely, his hands tapping on his knees. Phryne had already seen him like that. Many times, in fact, right before he bid his goodbyes, went to search for his hat and overcoat, and left.

« Must you go?», she asked, even if he hadn't yet said a word but the lower way he was holding his head and his pursed lips gave away the he was on the brink of doing so. The sound of that question reverberated in her mind, the tone perhaps more pleading than what she had intended, but that she couldn't completely cast out.

«I'm afraid I must.», he replied regretfully.

A rather bold wish took hold of him. He did want to stay, but that he couldn't reveal or act upon. It wouldn't be the first time they'd be sleeping under the same roof and considering how the undercover operation was going it probably wouldn't be the only one – a prospect that tightened his stomach when it came across his mind -, but nothing of what had happened in the last day was similar to what had taken place in the chalet. Back then it had derived from having been snowed in but giving in to this invitation would be setting a very dangerous precedent they couldn't allow themselves in that moment.

» Gregor is relying on me to have his dinner, you see.», Jack justified. It was true, but even if he didn't have the dog with which to excuse himself, he would have had come up with other reason to leave in that moment.

« That detail had slipped from my mind, I believe», Phryne acquiesced.

» Let it be known that, in the future, if you need to stay here and have provided for Gregor to have his dinner any other way, your room will be waiting for you.», she said in what she expected was a lively and light tone, trying to compensate for the disappointment she found within herself.

« Thank you for the offer. It's very tempting but we'll have to put a pin on it for another time.»

Jack got up from the stool sorrowfully, reaching out his hand to help Phryne afterwards. He knew she didn't need it, but he had felt prodded to do so nevertheless and moved by a similar feeling she had taken it.

They walked to the hallway in silence, Phryne's heels hitting the wooden floor as if they were the tick of a clock marking that time was running out and soon he would be off to a house she had never been to, a house she didn't even know exactly where it was, in fact. She was once again slightly haunted by how little she knew of him and yet it was strange to remark that apart from the shock of such realization and the curiosity that understandably came in tow not knowing those things didn't dramatically change her feelings for him. (Although the exact words with which to define those feelings was something much more difficult to ascertain.)

« What if Yates is hiding in the next street corner and he sees Archie leaving at this time of the night?», she said when they were by the coat stand , Jack already holding the brim of his hat in his fingers.

Perhaps that jab had been over the line, uncalled for even, now that they had been able to negotiate a way to part for the night, but Phryne was feeling rather wistful. She acknowledged it wasn't the most honest reason for which to want him there, but as fun and entertaining getting ready for the photographs, taking them, and preparing the dinner and living through that evening had been, the emotions it had elicited didn't mix well with the tiredness that was wearing her down after that long day.  _Get yourself together,_ she thought. Vowing to not say a word more before his reply, she waited.

« I'm sure we'll come up with something suitable, if that's the case. », Jack was also off his game now. Despite all the constraints he could name on the spot that advised him of how imprudent staying there would be, he we was getting less and less sure he would have abided by them, so he was truly glad Gregor made him have to go home.

Phryne brought herself to open the door and moved a bit to the side to make way for Jack.

« I may drop by the station tomorrow. See if there are any news.»

« You'll be very welcome as usual.»

«As usual? How things have changed!», Phryne said, laughing, completely at ease now, a state of mind that influenced that Jack's as well.

«Goodnight.»

Jack was already on the outdoor step, framed by the threshold, a dark blue sky dotted in stars behind him.

«Goodnight.» , she replied, keeping her eyes on him until he got in the car and drove out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> «With A Song In My Heart» is the name of the song Phryne and Jack sing and it obviously doesn't belong to me in any way or capacity. The lyrics were written by Lorenz Hart, the music was composed by Richard Rodgers, and it was part of their 1929 musical «Spring is Here».
> 
> I hope there's some part of fair use that can be applicable to this case because I don't mean any copywright infringement. I just wanted to have these two singing. If you're curious about how it sounds, look for Leo Reisman Orchestra and Ran Weeks' version - you can easily find it on youtube. The lyrics are easily accessible too.
> 
> (Not sure if including links will not stall this - or even if it's possible to put them here -, so I'm afraid I have to send you look for it yourself).
> 
> I hope you find the song as suitable to both the moment and to their story as I did.
> 
> I know it doesn't develop the plot much, but sometimes I just find myself writing these little bits that cater to the romantic side of the equation.
> 
> As usual, feel free to review/comment/leave a kudo/etc. Like I wrote above, it's always wonderful to hear from you. Thank you in advance.
> 
> P.s: Don't hate Gregor.


	10. Chapter 10

Phryne was getting ready to go out and see for herself the intersection where the victim of the crime she was investigating had been tossed out of a tram. Considering that it was one of the most central crossings in the city, she had been by the corner of Flinders and Swanston Streets many times, but she always preferred to take a look at familiar places under the new scope provided by the interviewed witnesses and the collected evidence.

She put on a navy cloche hat with a blueish-grey swirling velvet motif and was picking up her bag from the bed when a discreet knock on the door interrupted her.

«Come in.»

«I'm sorry to bother, Miss.», Dot said, closing the door carefully behind her, apprehension widening her eyes, « but Mr. Yates is here.»

» And he has brought a guest.»

«Where are they now?», Phryne asked, taking off the hat.

«In the parlour. Mr. Butler is preparing some refreshments for them.»

« He's probably here to get the paperweight for the auction. »

» I guess he thinks we're past calling before showing up at this point. Telephone Inspector Robinson and tell him about our visitors, please.», Phryne instructed, « I don't want any misunderstandings that may derive from this unexpected turn of events.»

«Do you want him to join or is it just to inform him?»

«To inform him, to begin with.», Phryne took a look at the clock on the nightstand, « Archibald is 'at work' now, so it's not very odd if he isn't here.»

«Of course, Miss.

» Ah… Should I change into the uniform?», Dot asked, looking at her again after having turned to the door to leave.

« This isn't supposed to be a formal occasion, but perhaps it's best. Thank you, Dot.», she said with a smile.

After her companion left the room, Phryne went to her vanity table and leaned forward so she could see herself in the mirror and fix her hair, slightly ruffled by the removing of the hat. Satisfied with the result, she grabbed Fern's rings from the jewelry box, took a deep breath – knowing well how much patience she would need - and went out to meet Yates.

The two men were sitting on the sofa facing the door, with coffee in front of them, complemented by a three-tiered stand with ham, brie, and apple finger sandwiches on one level, cucumber and butter sandwiches on the other and homemade fresh scones on the top. On such short notice, it hadn't been possible to bake or get Viennoiseries or other delicate pastries, but it all looked delicious.

«Good afternoon, gentlemen. I see that Mr. Brewer has already taken good care of you.»

«Very well, if I may say so.», Yates declared, standing up and walking towards her. The other man got up from the sofa too, but stood a bit behind.

» Mrs. Jones. How do you do?», Yates greeted, taking Phryne's hand. No gloves worn this time.

« Splendidly, thank you.», Phryne said, fully into Fern's mindset now, which supposedly included some affinity towards him, «I hope you and Mrs. Yates do too.»

«We do indeed.

» I'm sorry for barging in, but Dr. Taylor and I came to take a look at a painting for the auction and the art dealer who will generously present it lives nearby, so I thought 'Why not pay a visit to the Joneses'?»

The intonation with which he said those words seemed to make room for a fake laugh that thankfully didn't come true.

« It was a lovely idea. », this was an equivalent of a false smile on her part perhaps, «My husband is currently at work, but maybe you'll still meet later in the afternoon. I hope you don't find it a hindrance.»

«Not at all, Mrs. Jones. I'm sure you can help us as well as he would, if not better.», he said with a more convincing tone that what she could have expected.

« Would you like to introduce your friend? », Phryne asked, trying to include the tall slim figure clad in a tweed suit, who walked in their direction once he was mentioned.

«Obviously. This is Dr. Andrew Taylor, a friend - as you very well said - , a fellow Elvsworthian, and an art history expert.

» Andrew, this is Mrs. Archibald Jones», Yates said, turning to Taylor and motioning towards Phryne.

«Fern or Mrs. Jones will do.», she corrected, slightly boiling inside with the form of address employed by Yates, formality be damned, reaching out to shake the new acquaintance's hand.

» Nice to meet you, Dr. Taylor.»

«It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs. Jones.», he replied, his baritone voice agreeable to the ear and firm while not intimidating.

He was around 35 years-old, which surprised Phryne, considering that if Yates were to ever bring a specialist, she expected him to be closer to his age, but the round tortoise glasses he wore did seem to age him a bit at first sight.

» I'm sorry if this sounds trite, but this is a wonderful house architecture-wise to begin with and you seem to have arraigned very interesting pieces here. The clock on the mantelpiece, for instance…», he continued, looking at it briefly and then back at her, « is such a fine example of mid-19th century French clocks of this rococo style. The detail of the foliage motif around the clock case is exquisitely carved and the golden colour is still so vibrant.»

He had a very open face, but as he spoke his features grew even more animated, a child-like enthusiasm shining from his light-blue eyes.

» I'm sorry. I tend do get a bit carried away sometimes.», he apologized, a sheepish smile bending his lips, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the tip of his right index finger.

«There's nothing to be ashamed of, Dr. Taylor. It's wonderful to have something in life that makes us get carried away.», Phryne said sincerely, «I'd love to know more about plenty of what we have here in fact. You see, some were chosen, but there are also family heirlooms and wedding gifts we enjoy but aren't very familiar with.»

«I'm glad to know you understand. Well, glad and relieved.», Taylor said with a smile.

Phryne acknowledged it would be precipitated to jump to any conclusion, but she liked him better than what she liked Yates already.

«That's one of the reasons why I invited Dr. Taylor to come with me.», Yates declared, drawing their attention back to him, «Mr. Jones' collection is outstanding, but I thought it might be best for the auction and for the Children's Hospital to base the choice on something more than my personal taste. On Dr. Taylor's knowledge, for example.»

«Shall we go then? I mean, if you have already finished tea, that is.»

«Indeed.», said Yates.

«The sandwiches were delicious.»

«Thank you, Dr. Taylor. I'll pass it on to Daisy and Mr. Brewer.

» Would you come this way to the library, please? That's where the paperweight tour usually begins.», Phryne said with a smile, leading them towards that room.

**xxx**

About 5 minutes ago, Jack had been at the coroner's office, but he was now on his way to Christopher Crescent driving as fast as he could, which wasn't exactly an easy task considering that the streets of Melbourne were boiling with activity and close to 10 kilometers separated those two places.

He had been getting the report on a stabbing victim that had been thrown out of a tram when a very flustered Hugh knocked on the door.

«You are here, Sir! », he had said, trying to catch his breath.

«Unless I've turned into some sort of advanced projection and I'm not aware of it, yes, I believe so, Collins.

» I told you I'd go to the tram central and then I'd come meet Dr. Philips.»

« I tried calling them but you had already left, so I thought perhaps it would be easier to find you myself than make more calls and loose more time. I'm sorry, sir, I'm afraid we missed each other then.

» I have a message. Could you please follow me to the hallway please? It is of a sensitive matter.», Hugh continued, still attempting to compose himself.

«Excuse us, please.», Jack said to the coroner, who nodded.

«Mr. Yates is at the Jones' house as we speak, sir.», the words seemed to fly out of the constable's mouth.

Jack nodded. Yates paying an unexpected visit wasn't exactly unforeseen, but given that apart from a beautiful thank you note written in Olympia's elegant calligraphy they hadn't heard anything from them in the past 3 days it all seemed very sudden.

» Apparently he was expecting to find you or Miss Fisher home. Dot, I mean, Miss Williams has just called. Apparently he brought a guest.».

« A guest? I better get going then.», Jack said, already walking towards the stairs that lead to the main door, «I'll drop you at the station.»

He was sure Phryne would handle the unexpected visitors very well, slightly relishing the chance of having Yates almost at her mercy, if one could say so, but he felt he must be there too nevertheless. Hugh didn't know much beyond what he had already told him, so it was a bit risky to simply appear without having much of a notion of what was going on, yet he was willing to grapple with what he would find at Christopher Crescent when he got there.

Jack got out of his motorcar, took a chain from his pocket and used one of the keys pending from it to open the gate. Phryne had given it to him the day they had visited the house for the first time but he had never used them. It felt very odd to simply walk in like that even if he was expected. This time though he put his reserves aside and let himself in.

When he opened the door, apart from some faint 'clicks' whose origin he couldn't identify, everything was much quieter than what he was anticipating. Phryne, Yates, and the mystery guest were probably in other area of the house, the office or even in the back garden.

«Hello?», he called out to the empty hallway. Mr. Butler and Dot at least would be around.

«In here.», Phryne replied, her voice coming from the billiards room.

Jack walked that way and entered the plaid-wallpapered room with dark wood wainscoting and a fireplace fit for a Highlands castle in a corner. Phryne was leaning over the billiards table, a cue in one hand, the other bridging the shaft end of the stick in order to hit the white ball.

«Where's Mr. Yates?», he asked, puzzled by the _tableau_  in front of him.

«Mr. Yates?», Phryne turned her head in his direction and then back at the game, « At Elvsworth, his home…», 'click', the white ball hit the black one, sending it to the pocket on the far-right corner, «… his car, who knows?»

She straightened her back and stood there, the cue stick held vertically, facing him now. The frame was over and given the look on Jack's face he didn't seem very keen on taking part of a new one.

«Wasn't he here?», Jack asked.

« He was but then he left, the lovely and colourful 'macedoine' and millefiori canes Baccarat paperweight already spoken for. »

«Baccarat, hein?» Jack remarked with a nod, putting the conversation about Yates' whereabouts on hold for a minute.

«Nothing but the best for our dear club. But here Dr. Taylor, the art historian guest, may have been the one to make the call. You should be thankful. Yates wanted to take the Egyptian Revival bronze paperweight in the office. Considering Archibald's memories of Egypt and the emotional link to the country, it would be a pity.»

«Who is the owner of car by the gate then?»

«They went away about 15 minutes ago. It may be of one of our neighbours or their guests.

» But don't be sad, Jack.», she had walked towards the wooden mantelpiece to retrieve something off it. « You may have missed Yates, but he left you this.», Phryne continued, handing him a light cream envelope of premium quality paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Thank you once again for your renewed support, especially after what felt like one of the most polarising chapters of this story, where the known reactions were sort of 50-50 towards people who liked it and people who didn't that much.
> 
> I hope what you've just read doesn't feel much like I'm trying your patience again considering that there aren't many interactions between Phryne and Jack, but it's a needed transitional part to the second part of the story. I have some things in store I hope you'll appreciate.
> 
> I'd just like to say that in Chapter 9 I changed Yates' job from doctor to accountant. Back then I had written « he put his doctor's practice on hold» but when I was writing this chapter it hit me if he was a doctor I had been addressing him wrongly and it was easier and more practical to turn his business into an «accountacy office» than replace Mr. with Doctor 9 chapters back. It doesn't entail nothing more, but I thought I should say something.
> 
> If you feel like it, say something. I always love to hear from you.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the new chapter at last. I'm sorry for the hiatus but for many reasons it was impossible to write it and post it before. 
> 
> It's nothing new that I hope you enjoy this installment of the story and feel curious enough to still want to read it beyond this point. 
> 
> Thank you for all your support, comments, reviews, kudos

The house was shielded from the main road by a line of angophoras, but they were able to get a look of it from time to time. The same type of trees sided the private path through which Phryne and Jack were being driven by Bert, begrudgingly wearing a chauffeur's uniform. He didn't make much effort to hide his discontentment both with the clothes and the idea of elite clubs, but even Bert wasn't indifferent to the sunny day with clear skies above them or to the pleasant smell of wild flowers that breezed across open windows of the motorcar.

«This is it, I guess.», Bert said when no more trees stood ahead of them.

The Elvsworth clubhouse was a two-floor building painted in warm beige with light blue shutters and white window-frames. A well-manicured lawn patch cut by stone slabs lead to the front door, placed under a small canopy.

There were vases with big round bushes by the corners of the house and a pergola covered in bright green leaves on the left, further protected from the sun by a fig tree with flowerbeds around the bottom of its trunk.

«See you in a couple of days, Bert, or do you prefer Cec to come get us instead?», Phryne asked, taking advantage of that final moment of privacy. There was only need of one chauffeur and a coin toss had set that between the two men.

«I am a man of my word, Miss F- Mrs. Jones. I'll come and pick you and the inspector up.», he vowed, not acknowledging the second slip of the tongue.

«I'll ring the house once we know when it will be convenient», she said, stepping out of the open door of the vehicle, held open by Jack.

«Thank you.», Robinson said, before closing it.

They cut quite a figure. Jack was smartly dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and a blue-ish grey tie (previous Archie's knitted jumpers were not acceptable unless he was playing golf or tennis) and Phryne was wearing a silk chiffon wing-sleeved floral print dress in coral, pink, red with a dark grey background. The outfit was completed with a felt cloche hat in the same colour with an upturned brim and feather detail and shoes and handbag in black leather.

Jack offered Phryne his arm. It felt much less troubling now, kind of organic even, if he might say so. They were following the pathway to the house when Yates called from across the lawn, coming down the steps that lead to the tennis courts area.

They stopped, turned around and waved in his direction, acknowledging him.

«Good afternoon, Mr. Yates.», Jack greeted when he was near them, shaking his hand, Phryne doing the same right afterwards.

«Thank you for inviting us», she said.

«Not at all», replied Yates, with a dismissive hand motion, « It's a pleasure to welcome you to the Elvsworth club. I think ours will be a very fructuous partnership for all involved.», he continued in a rather warm tone.

«I'm sorry we missed each other at Christopher Crescent last week», Jack said.

«Don't worry, Mr. Jones. You were working, I understand perfectly and it's not like we had anything set. I must be the one apologising. Besides, Mrs. Jones was the most charming hostess. Dr. Taylor was particularly impressed. »

«It's very gentlemanly of him. I gather I'll be able to thank him personally for such words?» Phryne said.

«Indeed. He's somewhere inside, overseeing the reception and organisation of the lots for the auction. I believe he still has a lot to do until tomorrow. Yours has already arrived, I think?

»Take Mr. and Mrs. Jones luggage to their rooms. Ask for more information at the front desk. Thank you», Yates said to the two porters standing a bit behind them, burdened with a set of three heavy-looking suitcases, two hat boxes and a two toiletry cases, which Bert had loaded off the car, « I'm sorry for this interruption.»

«No problem. We're sure the paperweight is already here. We sent Mr. Brewer to deliver it this morning», informed Jack.

«Good, good», interjected Yates.

«It's much more busy today than it was the last time we were here», remarked Phryne.

The lawn yard sizzled with movement. Well-dressed people were being dropped off from shiny cars and, much like what had happened to Phryne and Jack, these guests were followed by porters with armfuls of trunks and suitcases, even if they were going to stay for two or three days.

«If everything goes according to the plan – something to which we are giving our best efforts - , the auction will be a success», Yates said, beaming proudly. « Would you like to freshen up, rest for a while, have something to drink at the bar? Please, feel at home.»

«Something to drink would be lovely I think.», Phryne suggested, slightly turning to Jack. It was highly unlikely that all the people who were arriving were locking themselves up in their rooms so it could be a valuable opportunity to observe the place and those who gravitated around it.

«I agree. Thank you», said Jack.

«This way please», Yates indicated, stretching his hand towards the house.

«How's Olympia?», Phryne asked.

« Very occupied as well. She normally trusts the personnel with the details for dinner but there are some special guests for the auction that are already at the Elvsworth, so she's supervising the last details of the meal and the laid tables herself. Would you like me to get her?»

«Oh, no. That's very kind but we don't mean to keep you. I'm sure you two have plenty of tasks still to take care of», Phryne said, « We'll meet later.»

She was always very discreet in her investigations, but having Yates or Olympia hovering even more than expected was a circumstance she'd rather not have to deal with.

«I'll show to the bar and then go back to work, then, if you don't mind.», Yates said when they stepped into the lobby.

« Please. We can ask around how to get there. We don't mean to impose at all.», Jack said.

«Don't tell anyone, but I welcome the break actually», Yates said, a complicit smile on his face, walking them to the lobby of the Elvsworth.

«Your secret is safe with us», Phryne said, putting on her best display of understanding.

The hall was a well-sized room with polished limestone floors and a semi-circular dark wood counter in the far end, facing the door they had come through, with a pigeon-hole key box on the wall behind. Two receptionists were putting their best effort into their work but they looked like they could use a hand – they welcomed people, gave keys, took keys, answered queries in person and over the telephone. A touch of freshness was added by the two potted palm trees on each side of the base of the staircase that lead to the rooms.

Sunlight poured from the French windows on the left, casting little rectangles onto the round sofa upholstered in beige and set on a wooden frame with golden feet. The sound of a piano floated pleasantly in the air, but considering that none was in sight, the instrument was probably being played in the bar. Everything was elegant and airy, exactly what one would expect from the Elvsworth.

Two large open glass doors on the right lead to the bar Yates had promised. He was talking about how a significant part of the clubhouse had burnt in 1923 because of an electrical fault and the rebuild had allowed for the presence of more modern styles of features and furniture, but Phryne was focusing more on the people they crossed paths with and whom greeted Yates without exception, verbally or with subtle nods.

Miss Fisher's heels clicked on more limestone floors as they walked. Under the vaulted ceiling painted in white, wicker chair-and-table sets were disposed around the room, arranged in a way to accommodate two or four people per set, but not many were there. On the right there was another wooden semi-circular counter, similar to the one in the hall, with a mirrored wall behind where a very extensive selection of drinks was on display in glass shelves. The bartender took two of the bottles and turned his attention to the tray with the shiny utensils he would use to make a cocktail.

The piano was on the left, set in the corner on top of a small step, a young man dressed to the nines in a dark suit playing it.

«In or out?», asked Jack motioning towards the open doors at the end of the room that lead to a verandah and from beyond which the golf course sprawled.

«Outdoors », Phryne replied, «It's such a lovely day.»

«An excellent choice, if I may say so.», Yates said, walking ahead of them towards a second pergola, on this side of the house, under which there were placed more chairs and tables, separated from a pool by a bush fence. Many guests were outside, enjoying drinks and the view and talking lively amongst them. A waiter expertly carrying a tray was bringing silver kettles with coffee or tea, glasses with elaborate cocktails, and delicious-looking sandwiches and cake.

There was only one empty table left to which Phryne, Jack and Yates made their way and sat down at, Miss Fisher and the inspector facing the golf course and Yates pulling a chair and sitting next to her.

They were discussing what to order when Yates greeted the couple coming from two tables over. From where she was seated, Phryne noticed that they were chatting comfortably with each other but a startled look took over their faces when he addressed them, an expression that turned into professional smiles afterwards.

« Miss Clayton, Mr. Bailey!», he said, getting up, «How do you do?»

Yates shook the man's hand and gentlemanly took the hand the woman was offering in his afterwards.

«Very well, thank you.», Miss Clayton replied, her voice still not very firm, « How could we not?», she added a beat later, gesturing to the surroundings with her right hand, a bit more at ease.

« I hope you don't find it too pretentious but I am very pleased to know that.», Yates said.

An awkward expression took hold of Miss Clayton and Mr. Bailey's features and both Jack and Phryne had to really exert themselves to not roll their eyes. Jack, in particular, was starting to reach the limit of his quota for that sort of idle chat even if he acknowledged that it was only the beginning. He understood the point of it and liked to consider himself a polite person, but that dance of compliments and excuses was exhausting, especially when the murder investigation wasn't as advanced as he wished it to.

«Miss Clara Clayton, Mr. Samuel Bailey, may I present you the two newest members of our community – Mr. and Mrs. Archibald Jones.», Yates said, moving a bit to the side so Fern and Archibald could be seen better. Phryne disliked the way he seemed to want to exhibit them. He hadn't been exactly expansive about it but there was a sort of unctuous undertone to his actions and his words.

« Miss Clayton and Mr. Bailey are two of the most distinguished members of the Elvsworth and the most sought-after tennis and golf partners even if people fear them in the same amount. », he continued, the introduction directed at Phryne and Jack this time.

Yates was supposed to be complimentary but both Clara and Samuel didn't do much more than muster another pair of polite but rather empty smiles. Phryne also doubted other members within earshot would be very keen on listening to such words.

«How do you do, Miss Clayton?», Phryne said, getting up from her chair and taking the hand Clara had stretched out.

Miss Fisher thought her rather pretty and, curiously, she also saw some resemblance with Claire Windsor, even if the woman in front of her was younger than the actress and with dark eyes, her short wavy brown hair peeking from under the elegant black straw hat with delicate cream paper flowers on the right of brim. Many women there were stylishly dressed, but Clara's cream shirt dress stood out nevertheless. It fastened on the left, the buttons hidden by a flap trimmed in burnt orange, the same colour of the bands around the collar, the hem of the skirt and around her hips, with a slim black piping separating the two tones. The whole look was completed by cream leather mary jane shoes and a matching clutch.

«It's always nice to see new faces around here.», Clara said.

«Congratulations on your engagement.» Phryne offered, « I didn't know we were going to meet here, but I must confess I read it on The Age.» She wasn't particularly interested in the society engagements but flicked through them nevertheless so she could recite them by memory when Aunt Prudence wanted to give her another example of people who had settled as they were supposed to. In fact, the Clayton-Bailey prospective union had been mentioned two days ago when Aunt P had come to dinner at Christopher Crescent.

«Thank you. Sam and I are very happy.», the look they exchanged and the way they had been talking before being interrupted by Yates lead Phryne to believe that it was probably true, but she couldn't avoid noticing a slight turn in the tone that denounced that Clara had said those exact words plenty of times before.

Miss Fisher took a step back to make way for Jack to greet Clara, before addressing her fiancé. (It was nearly impossible that Yates had thought the arrangement through – it was rather difficult to make people's acquaintance with a table between them and moving out of that configuration would be even less elegant.)

«Mr. Bailey, how do you do?»

«Mrs. Jones, welcome to the Elvsworth.», he said, taking her hand. Samuel was tall and athletic but his freckled face gave him a boyish charm. He was wearing a grey three-piece suit with a white shirt and an olive-green coloured tie with thin dark orange stripes that brought out his dark hazel eyes, as well a silver collar bar and a straw boater hat with a grey and white ribbon over his dark hair.

Despite Yates' reverence towards them and the impression they made, Clara and Samuel were very young, both in their 20s. Their families had probably been members of the club since its origin and carried a certain amount of clout in and outside the walls of the Elvsworth.

«Would you like to join us?», Yates asked, as if they hadn't just gotten up from their own table some minutes ago.

«We'd love to, Mr. Yates, but I'm waiting for a telephone call from my editor.»

«Your editor? Are you a writer, Miss Clayton?», Phryne asked.

«I write a fashion column for a small magazine in Sydney.», Clara replied, her tone as agreeable as it could be.

« I'm sorry to interrupt but the waiter seems to be coming at us very determinedly. I believe your call has arrived, darling.», Samuel said, gently putting one of his hands on his fiancée's arm.

«Excuse us. I can't really keep Mr. Perkins waiting – he always has a thousand things going on at the same time. I'm looking forward to meeting you later.», Clara said with a brief wave.

«We're looking forward to meeting you again as well.», Phryne said, wishing to be able to discuss what had happened with Jack, but it would have to be postponed until Yates wasn't sitting at their table.

«See you around, Miss Clayton, Mr. Bailey.», Yates said with a nod before Clara and Samuel disappeared into the bar.

«Their engagement party took place here two months ago. It was quite an event.», he continued afterwards, getting back in his seat.

«I don't doubt it.», Jack said. In conscience, he regretted the tone he had used, especially considering how many times he had alerted Phryne about hers, but the words were out before he had time to ponder on their intonation.

«Perhaps it's best if we order something soon, I don't want to spoil dinner.» At this point, Phryne just wanted to make Yates stop talking, even if things had been going surprisingly well for a while.

**xxx**

Yates had been called away by some sort of emergency in the kitchen, leaving Phryne and Jack to finish their tea. She had tried to bring up that afternoon but no matter how discretely one tried to do so, it was difficult to be completely at ease with so many people around them.

«Don't you think this is enough golf-course gazing for the day?», Phryne said, putting down her cup of coffee and turning to Jack, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

« What do you suggest then we do then, Mrs Jones?», Jack said, smiling at her. It was very hard to forget that they were working undercover in a murder investigation, but, at the same time, he found the arrangement surprisingly freeing. He didn't do it on purpose, but it was almost as if playing Archie drew a curtain over their real identities and the specificities of their relationship that allowed him to be more daring. Because it had only been necessary for him to be Jones from time to time, he hadn't fully realised until that moment, but he would be lying if he rejected it completely.

«Find somewhere more private to talk, perhaps? Like the rooms we haven't seen yet?», she said, lowering her voice.

Jack let out small laugh and looked down, his gaze returning to Phryne's face right after. He signaled the waiter to come to their table.

«Put this in our tab. We don't know the room number yet but it's under Archibald Jones, please.»

« Of course, sir.»

«Shall we?», Jack asked, getting up and offering his hand to Phryne.

«Indeed.», she replied, taking it. She wasn't exactly minding this course of events, but it was impossible to not be surprised by it. From now and then Jack had indulged in that playful side she knew he had inside of him, but this itineration of Archie Jones seemed to promise to be more adventurous than the one in the radio.

They got up and went to the reception. Phryne waited a bit further back while Jack checked them in and took the key. The stream of incoming guests hadn't slowed and it was always interesting to see how people reacted when things didn't move as swiftly as they wanted.

«Everything's in order?», Phryne asked when Jack returned.

«It was strange to sign a name that's not mine, but apart from that…»

«You managed. I'm really proud of you.», she said , raising an eyebrow, when Jack walked past her to walk up the stairs ahead of her, as etiquette rules demanded.

«If you were expecting a comment, I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you.», he said over his shoulder mid-way of the limestone steps.

«Don't worry. You rarely disappoint me.», Phryne replied quickly.  _Perhaps too quickly_ , she thought afterwards.

Jack kept quiet yet his eyes remained on Phryne and he stopped walking.

«I'm glad to know that.», he said eventually, sort of mad at himself because those words seemed insufficient to convey exactly what he wanted them to; insufficient, vague, and trodden, especially when all he wanted to do was to kiss her right there and right in that moment. But Jack resumed walking up the stairs with a silent Phryne following him instead, also reeling from that moment none of them had expected. Gone was the audacity of Archibald Jones in the verandah.

«What's the number?», Phryne asked trying to make the tone of her voice as normal as possible.

« Seventeen. The same as 'our' house in Christopher Crescent.»

« It's through that corridor then, I believe .», Phryne said, pointing to the archway on the left with a golden plaque with the number of the rooms accessed by that hallway attached to the wall.

Jack nodded and turned that way, his hand clasping the key.

«It's awfully quiet, don't you think.», she continued, trying to fill out that same silence that seemed to amplify the awkwardness that had descended upon them.

«Everybody is probably downstairs… And here it is.», Jack said when they were in front of a white door with the number '17' nailed to it, «Ready?», he asked.

«Let's see what Yates picked for us. It better be good. I'm ready to find him wherever he is inside this clubhouse and give him an earful if it isn't.»

Jack smiled sincerely (he didn't doubt she would do so if she thought the assigned room wasn't up to her standards) and opened the door.

They were standing now in a decently-sized area, decorated tastefully in white, beige, and blue tones and dark wood furniture, but apart from the door through which they walked and the one on the left that seemed to lead to the bathroom, there was no other indicator of another room.

«We'll be rather close, I guess, but that's not a problem, is it?», Phryne said, facing him, a particular look in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the point where I say I know nothing of private golf clubs and because they're, well, private research is not that easy. I'll take what I can from books/films/shows set in these environments and hope you find The Elvsworth and its ambiance convincing enough.
> 
> As usual, I'm looking forward to reading your thoughts on this chapter and the story in general.
> 
> Thank you again for everything.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much for your lovely reviews and kudos about chapter 11. The fact that you value all the detail I insist on putting on this story means a great deal to me as does your understanding that from this moment on The Elvsworth runs like I want it to instead of how private clubs may do so.
> 
> I hope you enjoy what's you're about to read.

«Would you mind if I took this one?», Phryne asked, moving towards the first twin bed, her tone more like a declaration than an enquiry.

Other men might feel tempted to try to steer the choice to the one farther from the door and any possible danger that might come through it, gearing themselves to fill some sort of saviour role if it came to it, but despite his noble and chivalrous streak not only didn't Jack feel inclined to do so, he had known for long that Miss Fisher could fend for herself very successfully.

«Not at all», he replied, still standing near the door.

Jack had yet to fully grapple the new arrangements. There was a certain intimacy in their nightcaps; just the two of them alone in her parlour, sometimes late at night, but sharing such close quarters was taking that to another level. Even if they had already seen themselves at their best and at their worst, going back home after a long day was one of the moments one can allow to give in and be themselves, to bare their soul and be vulnerable.

«I think there's no need to go fetch Yates, do you?»

Phryne placed her handbag on the bed she had assigned to herself and went to check the wardrobe. She did so not only driven by general curiosity, but also because their luggage was nowhere in sight yet her make-up, lotions, and perfume were carefully arranged on the top of the vanity, set by the window in the wall in front of the door.

«Indeed. It's quite a pleasant room.», Jack said, venturing a bit more inside.

The walls were painted in beige and the roof in white, the same colour of the fabric that upholstered two armchairs near the clothes cupboard, which Miss Fisher was opening in that moment. The two rosewood beds had straight, elegant lines were placed side by side and were flanked by similar nightstands with small Tiffany-style metal lamps with blue glass shades on top. Blue quilts of good quality covered the sheets and two matching pillows and a bolster leaned against the each of the rectangular headboards. Under the big window, overlooking the golf course, there was a wireless on a table and a valet stand in the corner.

Everything was spotless, all the surfaces had been thoroughly dusted, the furniture and the wood floors were polished and not a single stray thread or particle maculated the rugs. Jack had yet to see the bathroom, but he was sure it would be as pristine.

«It almost feels like we're at The Windsor», Phryne pointed out, looking inside the wardrobe. Their luggage had not only been brought up, the maids (she presumed) had unpacked them. Phryne's dresses, blouses, skirts and even her nightgown and the two silk pyjamas were hung beside Jack's suits, shirts, blazers, and trousers. Her hats were laid on a shelf on the right and their shoes were on a shoe stand below, near the neatly pilled trunks.

As Phryne took in the organization of the contents of the cupboard, the initial curiosity gave way to a particular feeling: a mixture of strangeness, fear, and comfort. Due to the oddness of the circumstances that had lead them to such situation, the first was to be expected but Phryne was surprised by the other two, especially because she couldn't point out which one was the inception and which one was the result.

She raised her hand towards the cuff of one of his shirts, but ended up straightening one of her own instead. Phryne also abandoned her first impulse to open all the drawers, stopped by the thought that some contained Jack's items and she was in too deep already. That same thought made her smile briefly afterwards though – good thing Dot hadn't come with them or it would have been extremely awkward for her to unpack his 'unmentionables'.

«Come in, Archie. This is your room too, after all.», Phryne said, shutting close the wardrobe's doors and moving to the bathroom, a rather unwise decision, she considered after seeing his toiletry leather bag open on the counter – comb, various brushes, scissors, a soap container, a small bowl, a bottle of perfume and another of aftershave, the glare of his razor blade being hit by the light coming from the lamp above the sink.

Jack put his hat carefully on the desk, in order to not crumple the paper sheets with the Elvsworth's letterhead placed on the desk or to knock over the beautiful glass vase with fresh gardenias – the high fee already paid was making itself unforgettable in every single of those little details.

Without knowing what else to do or say, he went to the window. Jack too had noticed the wardrobe and hadn't been indifferent to both it and her reaction, so he tried to let the green in front of his eyes calm him. The last time his suits had shared closet space with a lady's attire had been a long time ago and he found himself missing the closeness of living together with someone loved. He could hear Phryne moving behind him, coming out from the bathroom and sitting on one of the armchairs. This was probably a good time to recap all the facts the police possessed about the crimes under investigation so far, but at the same time it didn't feel right to do so. Their work together was something that pleased them both and was an important part of their lives, but there were moments where it had seemed rather inconvenient in fact, like in that point in time. But that couldn't be - no matter what, they couldn't leave it behind, Jack thought to himself.

He moved a little to the right and turned on the wireless, hoping it would make for some sort of transition. A radio-play was being aired and filled the room. He didn't follow it, but guessing by the agitation rippling through the voices of the actors, Jack would wager something important was happening in the story.

«Dot must be ecstatic», Phryne said from the armchair.

«I beg your pardon?», Jack turned around, facing her. She was holding her hat in one hand and smoothing her hair with the other.

«Jenny found out that Fred didn't marry Isabella – it was all a vicious rumour started by Lady Bertram, Isabella's mother who has had her eye on his fortune since the beginning.»

«And now Jenny and Fred can be happy forever at last, I presume?»

«Very well. No one would notice you aren't familiar with 'The Tale of Our Love'», Phryne said with an approving nod and a smile bending her lips.

Jack smiled back. In spite of his reservations about their relationship, that always came easily to him.

Phryne got up from her seat, put the hat on her bed, approached the wireless and raised its volume a bit, enough to muffle their voices but not loud to a degree that would attract attention.

«What do we know so far?», she asked.

Jack straightened his back and started talking.

«The victims: Alan Branson, 53 years-old, President of the Elvsworth, Lawyer. Thomas Siddall, 50 years-old, Vice-President of the Elvsworth, doctor. Peter Logan, 52 years-old, treasurer of the club and town councillor in charge of urban planning », Jack shifted his weight from one foot to the other, « All of them died in suspicious car accidents. Branson's blood tests came back positive for alcohol but no one saw him drinking at the club that night, no flask was found and there's nowhere where he could have stopped to have a drink from the Elvsworth to where he crashed. Siddall seemed to have been hit on the head after the motorcar accident because the injuries that matched a crash of the sort weren't serious enough to kill him while the ones in the same area of his body that were not consistent with this sort of trauma did. To end, we have Logan's car which burned but the firemen reported that the fire pattern seemed off.»

«I was hoping it would all sound less strange when heard a second time, but I was wrong, it turns out.», Phryne said.

«I share your feeling, Mis-»

Jack stopped talking abruptly. Back then the way they would address each other hadn't been very problematic because even when they were at Christopher Crescent there was a clear distinction between when they 'were' the Joneses and when they 'weren't' but at the Elvsworth that line was more difficult to parse.

Phryne looked at him. For her, it hadn't been an issue to switch from 'Jack' to 'Archie', but she wasn't oblivious to the circumstances in which he called her by her first name - distress or when she was on the verge of doing something he thought even more reckless than usual. Now that she thought about it, Phryne realised she could use her fingers to count how many times he had done so.

The Elvsworth was visibly well built but it wouldn't be wise to use their real names nevertheless, lest it be heard on the other side of the walls and they couldn't have the wireless on at all times because that could raise suspicion as well.

«Fern, I share your feeling, Fern.», Jack continued, slightly leaning on the window sill. From that moment on, any awkwardness calling her like that brought upon him would have to be put behind and Jack knew he would succeed.

«What about now? Do we stand back and watch?», Phryne said, leaning against the window sill too.

«You may not recognize it immediately, but there's virtue in standing back and watching.», he replied, turning to her.

Phryne smiled back at him. For all the confidence she had, it ws difficult to overlook the sense of fear that bubbled in her stomach, even if the apprehension came with a certain sense of curiosity and hopefulness as well. She had never phrased it so bluntly, but after her relationship with René Phryne had promised herself she wouldn't fall in that trap again. Lin had almost made her break the vow, but the particularities of their arrangement were too complicated. Meeting Jack had skewed her plan a little. That commitment made so long ago didn't seem so solid anymore even if her doubts about attaching herself to one person nudged her from now and then, particularly in moments like this, when they were bound so close by that easy intimacy that had developed between them.

She turned around, looked outside and took a deep breath, trying to pacify the storm that brewed in her heart. The golf course took almost all the space Phryne could see. Its carefully mowed ups and downs  had some clumps of trees scattered here and there, a bit more concentrated near the lake and lined up alongside the fences. Twilight had started to settle in meanwhile, lending a purple-ish luster to the landscape and the lights of Melbourne dotted the horizon. The radio play had finished and given way to Schubert's piano sonata no. 21, D 960, the mellowness and easiness of the melody intersected with sudden shards of intensity of the  _Molto Moderato_  uncannily mirroring their relationship.

«Is it too soon to start getting ready for dinner?», Jack asked, taking a look at his wristwatch. It was tricky to balance not being the first to arrive at the bar for a pre-dinner cocktail and not entering the dinner room so late everybody was already seated and staring at them, but the moment was almost too perfect for them to move from it unscathed.

«What time is it?», Phryne said, after swallowing dryly to regain her composure.

«Six thirty.»

«Changing into your dinner jacket and a dress shirt may be enough, but not for me.»

«I'll get into my Archibald attire then.», Jack said, going to the wardrobe to retrieve the items he would need.

**xxx**

Jack made sure his bowtie was as he wanted before exiting the bathroom. They couldn't allow themselves another situation like the one that had happened at Miss Fisher's hallway before taking Archie and Fern's wedding pictures.

He took another look at the mirror – Jack had shaved again and re-combed his hair. He was as ready as he could be.

Outside the white wooden door, he had heard the wardrobe and its drawers being opened and closed. Miss Fisher was probably gathering her outfit, he thought, but he didn't want to risk going back to the room and catching her in a 'particular' set of circumstances. Yet, he also didn't want to ask her if 'she were decent' or any variation of those words. It would be vulgar. Nevertheless, because he hadn't been able to come up with an alternative, he turned the handle with more vehemence than what was needed and opened it more slowly than how he would normally do.

Phryne was seated at the vanity, applying her red lipstick. She didn't turn when he came into the room, following his movements on the mirror instead.

Jack put his day clothes on the valet stand in the corner of the room.

She seemed to be dressed for dinner already in a silver embroidered gown even if the three little buttons on the back were undone, exposing the base of her slender neck and the beginning of her spine.

«You look very dapper, Archie.»

For all the talk about how to call each other in that charade, it had always been more or less implicit that terms like «dear» and «darling» weren't even part of the question. Such words had never been exchanged between them, but they had too much weight to be thrown around like that.

«Thank you», he said, not knowing exactly where to stand now, «I think it's best if I wait downstairs, leave you some room for the final details.», Jack let out, averting his eyes from her.

( _Had she noticed it?,_  he thought upon realizing she took brief looks at his reflexion on the mirror while putting on her make-up).

«Before you go…», Phryne said, turning her head to the side but not her body, looking at him from the corner of her eye, « Could you button that up? I tried, but I hurt my shoulder when a burglar tried to close a door on my face last week and I had to stop him. It's recovering, but I still can't keep my arm in the air.»

Phryne paused for a brief moment. She too wished to not start the night on an awkward note, so she had tried to fasten the dress but the pain had been too intense.

» I should I have brought Dot.», she said with a faint laugh.

Jack walked in her direction, trying to come up with a way to touch her as little as possible while accomplishing the task, the hot rush that had shot through his body when he had put Fern's rings on her finger still very present in his mind.

«A burglar?», he asked, taking the first button and the opposite piece of fabric in his hands. He tried to pull them away from her skin but the dress was cut too tight for that.

«A jewellery thief who tried to part Mrs. Rutledge, a friend of Aunt P, from her pearls and diamonds., Phryne said, her back very straight and her shoulders a bit tense.

Jack moved up to the second button, clenching his fist to not risk having the fingers not involved in the movement brush her body, his gaze following attentively what he was doing.

«What happened?»

«I caught him running through the garden and ran after him. He tried to close an iron gate on me, but I prevailed and threw a vase at him. He fell , I stopped him and called the police. Inspector Regan took care of the occurrence. »

This situation wasn't exactly something that hadn't happen before, but even if this sort of circumstances fuelled her enthusiasm, there was a certain level of exaggeration in the animated tone she used to tell her tale. Regrets weren't something that got her very often, but she almost wished she had kept quiet and changed her dress before putting them through that predicament. From now and then, Phryne took a look at him in the mirror, but she kept her eyes on the lid of the cream jar in front of her for the most time. Their restlessness almost made her wince.

She stretched her arm to pick the enamel compact on her left, out of distraction, breaking the balance both attempted to maintain. Phryne's shoulder blade moved under Jack's knuckles, catching both their breaths in their throats.

Jack did the last button hurriedly. There was no point in all the previous carefulness anymore.

«I'll wait downstairs.», he said, leaving the room at once and without looking at her again, even if Phryne rotated on the chair to face him.

He took deep breathes while he was making his way through the corridor and walking down the stairs, in an attempt to calm himself until he had to put on his 'Archie' façade and behave as such. Nevertheless, Jack was still far from calm when one of the receptionists called him from behind the counter.

« This message came in the afternoon post for you, sir», she said, handing him a plain envelop. It said «From: Benjamin Williams», but Jack recognised Collins' handwriting. He didn't open it right away, looking first for a place where he could read it without being disturbed.

(Speaking of Collins, he hoped Hugh hadn't forgotten to go feed Gregor and take care of him for the day.)

People were starting to gather in the bar, so it wasn't an option, but he noticed that the door to the terrace was open. There were four people seated at the table on the far corner on the left of the verandah, yet they seemed too enthralled in their conversation to pay attention to him. Jack decided then the table on the opposite corner was suitable for his purposes.

He sat down and opened the envelope with his fingers. The light wasn't the best for reading, but it would have to do. If the constable was writing, he had news to share.

Deep down, Jack was still reeling from the moment in the bedroom, but in that instant his mind was absorbed by the lines in front of his eyes.

**xxx**

«Did you see my husband, Mr. Jones, around?», Phryne asked the barman, after failing to find Jack both in the lobby and in the bar.

» He's a bit taller than me, has brown hair, and blue eyes. », she continued in light of the ignorant look on the man's face regarding Mr. Jones' whereabouts.

It was strange to try to describe Jack in such generic words when he was so much more and what he meant to her.

« There's a gentleman by himself in the verandah. Maybe it's him, Mrs. Jones», the barman said eventually.

«Thank you», Phryne said, getting outside.

» There you are!», she remarked. The other group had left meanwhile and everything was quiet apart from the buzz of voices coming from the clubhouse.

Jack raised his eyes from the letter, lifting it in her direction afterwards, a silent call that lead her to smooth her dress with her hands and sit by him.

«Benjamin Williams?», she asked, after reading the envelope Jack had handed her.

«Collins' middle name. It's easy to imagine the reason behind the rest.», he explained, lowering his voice, but back to his normal tone.

«Awww. That's sweet.», Phryne said, turning her attention to the sheet of paper in her hands.

» A diary written in a sort of code?», she uttered after she read the second paragraph of the letter.

« Stuck behind a very heavy chest of drawers.», Jack announced, anticipating what she would learn next, even if her gaze was moving quickly over the paper.

«Well, I guess we have to try to find out who is this 'Lord Signet Ring' mentioned by Logan», Phryne whispered, « Considering that he kept this diary so secret, I wouldn't be surprised if he was talking about someone close.»

« I reckon there's a high chance he may be having dinner inside as we speak.», confided Jack, pointing towards the open door.

«We better go then, don't you think?», prodded Phryne, already getting up from the chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank the people who helped me with Logan's job. Any mistake deriving from my interpretation of their help is on me though.
> 
> People may be disappointed with the twin bed arrangement instead of a double bed, but if that was the case, I believe Jack would insist on sleeping in one of the armchairs or on the floor and that I couldn't do.
> 
> I have no idea if maids would unpack the guests' luggage, but I don't think Phryne and Jack putting their things away would make for much story. I guess they could have brough Dot along, but, and I'm sorry if this sounds harsh, I needed her out of the way (and still do).
> 
> I'm sorry for sending you out into the youtube wilds again, but check the Schubert Sonata mentioned, if you're interested. The version I listened to was Maria João Pires' and it's amazing.
> 
> As usual, please forgive any inaccuracy that may happen despite all the research that takes place.
> 
> Thank you for your time and feel free to leave a comment, if you want. I always love to hear from you and it definitely brightens my day when I see a new comment.
> 
> P.S: Babsmd's comment lead me to check Hugh's alias and I had no idea that there's an Australian soccer referee named Ben Williams.
> 
> I came up with Collins' codename out of first name research and Dot's surname, as stated. Now that I know, I find it kind of oddly befitting, if you ask me, considering that he acts a bit like a referee in Phryne and Jack's relationship, namely by barging in when things get too intense sometimes.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for how long it took to have this chapter posted. I had started to write it right away after I finished the 12th, but things got in the way and here we are, about a month after.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience and understanding. They mean a great deal to me. I hope you enjoy what you are about to read.

Despite the new leads, Phryne and Jack's dinner was rather uneventful and they hadn't had the chance to talk to anybody – Clara and Samuel were already having their meal so Phryne and Jack only nodded from afar when their eyes set upon them and Yates, Olympia, and Taylor walked in and nodded too when they made their way into the dining room about 45 minutes later.

Ever since she had read Hugh's letter, Phryne's gaze scanned all the fingers that she came across, in search for a signet ring. So far she hadn't had much luck, a frustration of which she was certain Jack was also taking part, considering the trajectory his eyes had been following during dinner and now that they were looking for a table to sit at the bar.

Almost all the guests had finished their meal and moved there, so finding one wasn't exactly easy, particularly when some places had been cleared away to allow for a dance floor. Where in the middle of the afternoon was only a piano, there was a band now, composed by about 10 musicians, all impeccably dressed in dinner jackets and white tie and playing an upbeat jazzy tune.

Someone was waving at them from the farther right corner of the room, beyond the edge of the bar.

« Miss Clayton and Mr Bailey seem to be calling us», said Phryne.

«I got that impression too, but I wouldn't want to seem pretentions and imply that such distinguished members of the Elvsworth would be interested in us», said Jack jokingly, lowering his voice.

Phryne adjusted her hand, already on Jack's arm, and they walked towards Clara and Samuel, feeling each pair of eyes in the room fall upon them as they crossed the bar.

«Good evening», greeted Clara when Archibald and Fern Jones were already in front of her table.

«Good evening», Phryne and Jack said back, shaking their hosts' hands, who had gotten up meanwhile.

«Thank you for inviting us. Getting a table tonight almost seems like it's the Thirteenth Labour of Hercules. », added Phryne.

Clara laughed.

« I had never thought about it like that, but it may very well be an accurate image».

She was wearing a burgundy chiffon dress with a bateau neckline and embroidery around the deep armholes and a sparkly headpiece in her dark wavy hair.

Phryne's newfound interest in people's fingers kept not yielding many results though – Samuel's were bare and Clara's hands were only adorned by her engagement ring, a beautiful piece of jewelry with a round diamond set in platinum and sapphire shoulders between rows of smaller diamonds.

«So what did you find of your first dinner at the Elvsworth?», asked Samuel.

Without the brim of the boater straw hat over his eyes, Phryne could see that he looked even younger than what she had thought in the afternoon, but his demeanour seemed more at ease, something that came across in Clara's too.

«Absolutely delicious», said Jack, «Of course we had heard nothing but the best references, but it's nice to 'taste' for ourselves.»

«I found the  _côtelettes a la Provençale_ particularly exquisite», said Phryne, expecting to put an end to that conversation and move to some other topic which might prove to be more useful in the investigation.

« Would you like to place your orders?», asked the waiter, ready to take note of them in a small pad.

Phryne and Clara both chose Parisians, Samuel picked a Brandy Alexander, and Jack a Rusty Nail.

«What do you do, Mr Jones?», said Clara.

«I'm a statistician, Miss Clayton», Jack replied in a cordial tone, ready to milk that fact for all it was worth. Despite his personal stance on chit-chat, he acknowledged it could be helpful to find some relevant information.

«It must be interesting to turn the country into figures and then analyse its evolution» , said Samuel, rearranging himself in the chair, slightly small for his frame.

«It is», agreed Jack, « It's quite enlightening to discern patterns, trends, probabilities… I better stop now. Statistics may not be that appealing to those on the outside», he continued with a quiet, understated smile, hoping his enthusiasm had been convincing enough. His words brought out a polite laugh out of the people at the table.

«Miss Clayton has her fashion column but how about you, Mr. Bailey? You have been quite a man of mystery.», said Phryne.

Samuel laughed again.

«I'm trying to become a professional golfer, Mrs. Jones. A difficult task, but hardly mysterious.»

« Considering that The Elvsworth is one of the best clubs in the country, I'm sure it's a tremendous advantage.», remarked Phryne.

«It does allow me to have access to wonderful facilities and people from whom I can learn a great deal.», he admitted, yet in a non-chalant way.

«I wish you the best of luck in your endeavour.», Phryne said. She knew many young men in a similar quest, whether it was golf, tennis, horse racing on any other sport deemed appropriate for their social standing. She didn't know if it were Samuel's case, but some had sounding family names and fortunes behind them, but not even that was enough to overcome an abysmal lack of talent.

«Speaking of sports…», said Clara, « I was wondering if you played tennis, Mr and Mrs Jones.»

«We do», Phryne said, if only to find out where that conversation could lead, «but not as well as we play golf, I'm afraid».

«I see... I mean, that's exactly why I was suggesting tennis. Because we are all avid golfers, I thought tennis could be suitable for us to get to know each other better, without the burden of expectations and accomplishments, if I may say so.»

Phryne didn't look straight at Jack, but she sensed his uneasiness. She hoped she could do so because of how well she knew him and not due to a visible clue to his nerves. It suddenly crossed her mind that the thought behind Clara's invitation might be meant to do exactly like that – throw them off and even embarrass them.

«It seems a wonderful idea», said Jack, although a little apprehensive. In order to prepare for their role as Archibald and Fern, they had played some golf in an 9-hole private course owned by a friend of Phryne's but had not been that particular about their tennis-playing abilities. Besides, he had only played the sport once, with Sidney Fletcher of all people in a match arranged by Sanderson. Jack had not been very good nor had enjoyed the game itself much.

Despite his reservations, it was a little akin to being an actor, Jack thought, having to pretend one is proficient at something they hadn't had that much experience with before, which was sort of ironic considering his once wish of becoming one.

«Would you like to settle something for tomorrow then? Let's say at 11 o'clock, after breakfast?», proposed Clara.

Intending more to add some authenticity than to gauge a reaction – his words had been enough for her to know that he was also willing to see where that would go - , Phryne looked at Jack. No matter the reasons which might have prodded Clara and Samuel to invite them, it couldn't hurt their chances to blend with the popular members of the Elvsworth, around whom much of the club revolved. If given the choice, they would have preferred a lower profile, expecting to carry their investigation more easily that way, but they acknowledged that as newcomers such association also improved their position within the complicated social hierarchy of the Elvsworth. It wouldn't surprise Phryne if they received some similar invitations by this time the following day.

«Please book one of the tennis courts for us tomorrow at eleven o'clock», Samuel said to the waiter when he was putting the cocktails on the table.

«Of course, sir».

«Do you still have room enough for us?», said Yates, approaching them.

«As long as there are available chairs somewhere, we can make room», replied Clara.

«I see some over there, I'll find out if they're spoken for. », Jack said, getting up. He didn't want to come across as a sort of servant to Yates, Olympia or Taylor, but the faster they got on with the foreseeable introductory chit-chat, the better, «Three more chairs then?»

«Yes. Thank you», said Taylor, «Let me help you.»

«Is everything alright?», Phryne asked Yates, motioning with her head towards his left hand, meaning to ask about the bandage around his little finger.

«An unfortunate and rather silly accident with a door. It's nothing serious, but Dr. Jackson saw it better for me to have it wrapped for a couple of days.»

The observation of the newly-arrived's fingers had brought not only the same frustration felt before, but also a certain sense of distrust. Olympia was wearing her wedding and engagement rings on her left hand and a gold one with a round garnet on her right, which went very well with her green burnt velvet dress. Phryne couldn't be that certain about Yates and Taylor's though. In that moment, none had a signet ring, but she couldn't be sure if it had always been the case. She overlooked this type of jewellry as much as possible, it turned out, maybe due to how much she linked them with her father and the habit he had of fidgeting with his.

Jack and Taylor returned with the chairs, the first holding to and Andrew one.

«Perhaps, if everybody moves a little to the right, we can put them here.», Jack said and people complied.

«And we are settled at last», said Olympia when all were sat down. The table wasn't very large to accommodate everybody, but they could see each other clearly.

The waiter appeared swiftly from the bar and took Olympia, Yates, and Taylor's orders – champagne cocktails for the three of them.

«So what are you thinking of your first day at the Elvsworth?», asked Yates in a joyful tone.

«It's even better than expected. Everything is gorgeous and comfortable, the food was faultless, the service outstanding and the people we have met so far couldn't have been more welcoming», Phryne said with a sweeping motion, « I can't wait for the auction tomorrow. »

«We are very pleased to hear that.», Olympia said, «The Elvsworth is like a second home to us and, as all the hosts, we are very glad to know our guests are enjoying themselves so much.»

«I understand it perfectly. We have not entertained that much lately, but now that we have finally settled in our home, Archibald and I hope to have you all at our house soon».

«I make Fern's words mine. We will be pleased to welcome you for dinner sometime», Jack said after a glance from Phryne and a moment of silence by the guests made him feel it was time to come forward.

«Olympia and I have been to their home already and we can vouch for the loveliness of the place and the exquisiteness of the food. And I'd also say that their butler's cocktails aren't behind Rowland's in any regard.», Yates said, shaking his head towards the bar, where Rowland himself was busy working on getting a Bentley in the right shade of red and seemed oblivious to the comment made.

«Where do you live?», asked Clara.

«At Christopher Crescent. Near Grace Park.», replied Phryne.

«We are practically neighbours. Who knew?!», added Yates with a big smile. He appeared to want to make an impression on Miss Clayton, as if to bask in the fact that she and her fiancé had seemed to take a liking to the Joneses.

«My uncle lives nearby. Maybe I'll call on you next time I visit him, if you don't mind. », said Samuel.

«As long as we are home, feel free to do so.», said Phryne with a smile.

Thankfully the waiter brought the champagne at last. Yates asked if they wanted to make it a bottle instead of three flutes, but the rest of the group was satisfied with their drinks for the time being.

«So what do we have here?», said a man when he came near the table. He was in his fifties, had a rotund frame and blond hair. His blue eyes shone with amusement as he looked around and then set his gaze on the people around that particular table.

«Where have you been, Max?», said Yates, still sitting down but looking up to the man behind him.

«I was kept in the office until now, but from this moment on I'm free as a bird. I told my secretary that unless someone's mouth is indeed on fire, she doesn't know where to find me.», he said, putting his left hand on Yates' shoulder, «Did you think I was leaving you to run the show alone?»

«One never knows», Yates replied with a sound laugh that elicited at least a chuckle from nearly everyone at the table but Phryne didn't react as immediately. 'Max' was wearing a signet ring. Considering she hadn't heard Jack exert himself to laugh, she as sure he had noticed it too.

«Would you like to dance, Sam, darling? I love this song.», Clara asked her fiancé rather abruptly.

«I was finding odd you hadn't said anything yet», he replied, taking Clara's hand and following her to the dancing floor.

Phryne looked at Jack surreptitiously and, as expected, also found him trying to keep his Archibald Jones veneer on, but beyond all his efforts, she made out how unsettled he was with the latest developments.

Jack's head was spinning with questions over which he could use going back and forth with Phryne. Even considering that despite how rare signet rings seemed to be at the club, he found it highly unlikely that this man's would be the only one, but he couldn't deny he was quite invigorated with that clue nevertheless.

«This is Mr Bernard Maxwell, interim Vice-President of the Elvsworth.», Yates said, introducing him to Phryne and Jack.

«These are Mr and Mrs Archibald Jones, the newest members of our club. »

«The famous Mr and Mrs Archibald Jones.», said Maxwell, «I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm sorry we haven't had the chance to meet before, but now that we are only two running the Elvsworth, Olympia and Taylor's valuable help notwithstanding, we had to do things differently. I much enjoyed reading your application though.», he continued, taking Phryne and Jack's hands.

«We are very pleased to meet you as well, Dr. Maxwell», said Phryne.

«Thank you for having us at the Elvsworth», Jack continued, putting up that routine.

«I just hope you enjoy it as much as we do. It's a special place with wonderful, interesting people. », said Maxwell, visibly delighted by so many guests and the ambiance around him, glowing like a patriarch overlooking a family reunion.

«We were already sold.», replied Phryne.

The waiter brought another chair and everybody moved a little to the side again to make room for him.

Conversation ran easily amongst the people at that table, propelled at first by Maxwell's questions about Fern and Archibald. Phryne and Jack were as nimble at talking about the Jones' lives as they would ever be, but no matter how many times they repeated 'their' biographies, it still came with some oddness attached, particularly for Jack, who was already on edge since the beginning of the night due to what had happened in the room.

He had pushed his uneasiness aside and focused on the case but as the hours went by it was becoming more difficult not to replay everything in his mind, a task made even harder by how close to him Phryne was after all the arrangements needed to accommodate everybody, even if Clara and Samuel hadn't yet returned from the dance floor, many songs after leaving.

Maxwell, Yates, Taylor, and Olympia were sharing tales of previous auctions. Phryne and Jack listened to them attentively and said something when they saw fit, but given how embroiled in the conversation the first were, with their heads bent together, there were moments where it seemed that their presence was barely noticed.

«Let's dance», Phryne whispered to Jack, « What do you think?»

He didn't reply immediately.

«Do you reckon it is a good idea?», he said eventually, both meaning the case and their own situation.

«You are still owing me a waltz, but considering that the current song calls for the Charleston, I think we are not at risk», Phryne said, looking right at him in a way that made him want to avert his eyes but that prevented him from doing so at the same time.

«Besides, it can be a way to have some privacy. There are some things I would like to talk to you about», said Jack, offering his hand to Phryne.

«I was going to point that out right away in case my first argument might not be deemed strong enough», she said, taking Jack's hand but not getting up from her chair right away.

«You know what they say about great minds.», Jack had a half-smile on his face.

«Excuse us, but we are going for a dance. I'm sure you don't mind, do you?», Phryne said to the other members of the group, not really expecting any opposition.

«Go ahead. That's why we pay the band, after all.», said Yates, let looser by the cocktails that the waiters were bringing to the table and the comfort of having friends around him. Maxwell nodded and waved his hand while Olympia and Taylor smiled. They too seemed to long for a chance to get out of that conversation though.

Phryne and Jack walked amongst the tables to the dance floor, trying to find a place not too crowded and away from Clara and Samuel before getting there. They were talking lively and smiling at each other, but there was no shame in covering all the bases, so Phryne and Jack put as many couples as they could between them and Miss Clayton and Mr Bailey.

Fletcher Anderson's «Clap Hands, Here Comes Charlie» was already playing but they got the hang of it rather quickly, once Phryne put an end to Jack's indecision regarding the appropriate place to his hands when she put one in hers and the other right in her waist.

«And that's where it will stay», she had said.

They moved back and forth easily and in tune, Jack moving his feet in the right moments, managing even to move one while twisting the other heel with expertise, something that surprised Phryne a great deal.

«Look at you. You're much more flexible than your stiff posture would lead me to believe.», she said when they were standing side by side, their Charleston step perfectly synchronized.

Jack made Phryne twirl and said when she was back in his arms:

«You know me well, Fern, but there are still some things that I keep close to my chest.»

«Indeed.», replied Phryne with a smile, «but I hope to find those answers too. Sooner or later.»

«Speaking of answers…», said Jack, trying to shift the tone and the theme of the conversation. He hadn't meant to get that close, both in the physical and the emotional senses, but as it had already happened in so many occasions, it was difficult to keep that distance all the time when it came to them. « It seems we may have found ours about "Lord Signet Ring"'s identity.»

«We don't know much about him, do we? VP, dentist, born and bred in Melbourne. Married two times. The first wife died in ambiguous circumstances. », Phryne said. Long were the most exuberant dance steps as they were facing each other and moving back and forth again, moving their arms from left to right and vice-versa.

«Murder, suicide or death by natural causes. It's all so tangled up it's difficult to narrow down the options. It's one of the few unsolved cases on Harker's desk.», confided Jack.

«It's still a bit soon to bring him into questioning, at least, I guess.», Phryne whispered with a little disappointment tinging her voice, shooting a look at the table, where Maxwell continued chatting to Yates, Taylor, and Olympia.

«I'm afraid so. Wearing a signet ring is not a crime, and but from the reference in Logan's journal, we don't have anything else connecting him to that particular murder, let alone the other two as well.», he replied, a little impatient, not at her but at the glacial pace of the investigation.

«My pounds were on Yates, so far, but now I'm not that sure. »

«Are you admitting non-favourites, Miss Fisher?», he said, lowering his voice.

«Don't worry, I've been being as objective as I can be or otherwise I would have punched him in the face already. Besides, with a case with so few leads, have you never set your own theories and suspects?», Phryne asked, raising an eyebrow.

«I do have some theories», acquiesced Jack.

«That's not exactly what I asked, but I'll take it given that we didn't notice that the song changed and the Charleston is no longer suitable and it's too late for us to leave now.»

Jack paid attention to the music. A waltz.  _This can't be real_ , he thought.

« It's a bit too soon for 'Three O'clock In The Morning', don't you think?», she paused, « Or did you slip a note to the bandleader? », asked Phryne with that mischievous spark in her eyes he knew so well by now.

The change in tune, and more so the kind of dance it entailed and the implications it had for them, hadn't gone unnoticed by Phryne either.

«I didn't see a point. I thought you might do it first.», Jack said, hoping (sort of vainly, he acknowledged,) that humour would make him feel more comfortable, which would be even trickier to achieve considering that they had to be even closer to each other now, despite the fact that Jack's hand was farther up on her back this time.

«Do you really think I would do something like that?», Phryne asked with false offense coating her voice.

«You don't like to leave things hanging and neither do I.»

«It's good to see we are one the same page.», she said.

As they moved around the dance room, they were taking turns leading the dance, without putting much effort into it. It just happened seamlessly. Phryne carried herself gracefully, almost as if she were weightless and Jack was more restrained than during the Charleston, but it went very well with the solemnity of the waltz.

«Aren't we so many times?»

«You should have been in Vienna for the Rudolfina-Redoute Ball I attended in 1927 at the Hofburg Palace. The ladies, all wearing masks on her faces, can choose the gentlemen until midnight. I picked Alfred Brandtner, the best dance partner in the room, but let me tell you that your skills wouldn't be out of place there at all.»

«Maybe next year.», Jack replied with a smile. Despite it being nearly impossible, he would very much like to go to a ball with Phryne, even better if it were held in Vienna.

«You mock, but stranger things have happened.»

«I don't doubt it.»

Jack wanted to say something wittier, but despite the spontaneity with which they had been moving for the past minutes, it was as if it had suddenly hit him again how little space there was between then. He wondered for a moment if she was as affected by the circumstances as he was.

Phryne seemed to be focused on something or someone behind him, but that wasn't exactly the truth. Even if she was glancing briefly at the people around them, the ones sat at the tables and the couples dancing, she was also flustered by their waltz. The limits of their relationship had rarely been this blurred, but she couldn't cast how comfortably and naturally they moved on their dance skills alone. She had met her share of talented partners and even when there had been chemistry, it had always been more physical than emotional, unlike how she felt in that moment. Of course that she wasn't oblivious to the parts of her body that were in contact with Jack's, but it was the combination of both that startled her once again.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. Jack too seemed a little aloof on the surface, in the way his gaze was on her but didn't seem that engaged as he usually was and by his pursed lips, but despite the fact that there was still a lot Phryne hadn't figured out yet about him, she knew him well enough to grasp that he too was wrestling with similar doubts.

He looked at her and tried to come up with a smile but it appeared more of a wince. Regardless of the apparent breakthrough in the case, the night wasn't getting any easier and the fact that in the end they would both return to that same room didn't hover very far away from their minds.

«The song is nearly finished. Do we stay here or go back to our table?», asked Phryne, making an effort to sound as unaffected as possible.

«Back to the table. We can't leave them missing us much. », replied Jack, looking at her now.

«Do you think they have been gossiping about the Joneses?», Phryne asked mockingly.

«Perhaps. But I don't know what they could say. Archie and Fern are unimpeachable and appropriate. »

«We may have to share the gossip limelight with Clara and Samuel though. They haven't returned to the table yet either.»

«Do you think they lingered here to spy on us?»

«I don't think so. Not on purpose.», Phryne said, «They didn't seem very thrilled with Maxwell's presence. At least judging by how fast they got up when it became clear he would stay.»

The music stopped but Phryne and Jack didn't part immediately and when they did so, a certain regret permeated through their movements, in the disenchanted way their arms fell alongside their bodies, there was an almost sorrowful cadence to their breathing and in how Jack waved his hand to signal Phryne to walk ahead of him.

They were making their way amongst the tables when Phryne turned around:

«I'm going to the powder room for a minute. Go back without me and make sure my place isn't taken by another VP.»

«Your seat will be safe with be.»

«Thank you.», She said with a small smile, walking towards the lobby.

Yet as soon as she wasn't facing Jack anymore, Phryne's demeanour wasn't that light anymore. They still had managed to be able to discuss the case and what was surrounding them but, as it had happened before already, there were also little silent moments that interfered with the fragile balance they had been able to carve that reminded them of how delicate it all was. Phryne didn't particularly care for repetition and this was starting to feel more and more exactly like that. Normally, she knew what to do to break the cycle, how to change the conversation, but when it came to that particular relationship, the course of action wasn't that easy to figure out.

In spite of knowing very well that she wouldn't be able to find an answer that night, Phryne needed a couple of minutes to regain her posture, something hard to do in a room so full of people. (Well, she also estimated it was time to touch up her make-up.)

When she opened the powder room door, Olympia was leaning over the sink in order to be closer to the mirror, finishing applying her lipstick.

«Hello, hello.», said Phryne in a falsely cheerful tone. She didn't expect to really be alone, but she would have definitely preferred someone she wasn't acquainted with for company. She had seen Olympia leave the table, but believed she would be back already.

«Hello,» said Olympia, turning slightly to her right, «You and Mr Jones were quite at ease on that dance floor.»

«We hadn't had the chance to dance like this ever since we came back from Scotland.», Phryne replied without missing a beat, taking her place at the next sink and arranging her hair with her fingers.

«Congratulations on your skills.», Olympia said, storing her lipstick in her beaded handbag and taking out a small perfume bottle Phryne recognised as coming from a Melbourne luxury perfume maker, even if it was not much bigger than a glass vial inside a finger-long cap-less silver case . « I wish Wendell would be that nimble, but his talents lie somewhere else. », she said with a faint smile, rubbing some drops of perfume on her neck and wrists.

«The world would be a terrible bore if we were all good at the same things. », Phryne said, picking her own lipstick now.

«Indeed. Meet you back at the table?», Olympia asked as she went to the door, leaving a trail of Ylang Ylang, Bergamot, Rose, Vanilla, and Sandalwood in her wake.

«Yes. I won't be long. Would you be so kind as to order another glass of champagne for me? »

«Without a problem. », Olympia promised with a smile, going out.

Phryne stood for a minute in front of the mirror, putting her hands under cold water, trying to dampen her feelings, for a while, at least.

At the table, Jack waited in silence. Yates, Taylor, and Maxwell had effusively remarked his return, but said very little afterwards, still chatting amongst themselves. He couldn't say he was exactly surprised. No matter how much everybody lauded the Joneses and said how great it was to have them there, Archie and Fern were newcomers and outsiders. He also didn't mind being left out, to be honest, because it afforded him the chance to observe not only the people at that table but around him as well.

«I'm going to the bar to ask for a glass of champagne for Fern, would you like something? », enquired Olympia.

Everybody wanted a drink, but Jack declined. Even if undercover, he was at work and that first cocktail had been the only exception he allowed. Besides, despite the fact that he could hold it rather well, he wasn't in a frame of mind that would mix well with alcohol.

**xxx**

Phryne and Jack were amongst the last people to leave the bar, despite their closest acquaintances at the Elvsworth having gone upstairs some hours ago.

Both were tired and he was having some trouble concealing how much his eyes were watering at that point of the night – a reaction he experienced when he was very sleepy – but as time went on a drinks kept being poured, sometimes politeness and civility slipped off and let out the real people in the dinner clothes and their dynamics.

Yet nothing of the sort happened and they were walking through the hallways of the clubhouse in silence, despite strolling side by side. Their neighbours seemed to be all asleep by now. There was no light coming from under the doors and from now and then it was possible to hear someone snore.

As soon as Phryne unlocked their room and turned on the lights, she sat on the armchair, ready to take off her shoes.

«Would you mind? », she asked in the last moment, with her fingers already on the strap buckle, « My feet are killing me. »

«No, not at all. Be as you wish. », Jack replied, closing and bolting the door behind him. He was looking forward to finding himself in bed, but Phryne removing her shoes was only the first step of those nightly routines that were normally performed only in front of those closest to ourselves.

She got up from the sofa and went to the side of her bed to fetch her slippers, placed there by the maids who had come to open the beds, her bare feet lightly tapping on the hardwood floor.

As it had happened in the afternoon, Jack still hadn't ventured much into the room, so it took a while for him to notice that the decorative bolsters were gone and the blue quilts pulled down, revealing flawlessly ironed white sheets and pillows so fluffy one couldn't avoid wanting to lay their head on them as soon as possible.

Truth be told, his feet were bothering him too. His police work lead him to walk and stand on them for long periods of time in some occasions so he was used to it, but despite the rather frequent usage as of late, his dress shoes were still fairly new. Jack was sure he would find his own leather house shoes on the side of the other bed, but he felt a little paralysed.

Phryne sat down at the vanity and took out her earrings. She didn't do this to tantalise him; she was a woman of action in her essence and in that moment she had set herself to get ready and go to sleep as quickly as she could, in order to feel restored and aware for the tennis match and the day ahead, whilst trying to be the least affected as she managed to, despite knowing it wouldn't be an easy task.

«Who would take the bathroom first? », asked Jack, finally ready to set the whole process in motion, but not prepared yet to find it suitable for him to change out of his shoes.

«You can go first. I still have to take off my make-up and put my creams and lotions and it's all here. », Phryne said, turning around to face him. What she would do to erase that slightly frightened look off his eyes. How she wished they could resume the comfortable familiarity of their nightcaps in her parlour.

«Why do you always stand on the opposite side of the room as if it were a boat about to capsize with the least change in how the cargo is distributed? », she asked eventually. Phryne realised not much afterwards that her tone had probably been more harsh than humorous, as she initially intended, but the way Jack's shoulders seemed to relax if only for an instant, lead her to believe he hadn't exactly minded being called out.

«You are right», he conceded, putting them both at some ease, «It's just that this is quite a tricky situation, as you may have noticed yourself», he continued.

«We must be able to adapt to the tides», she said, a little snappishly.

«Indeed», Jack returned after a few seconds of silence, «I'll do my best. ». He retrieved his pyjamas from a drawer in the wardrobe and a nightgown.

Phryne put a nut of cream in her right fingers and was about to apply it to her face when she rotated in his direction as he was on his way to fetch his slippers, the neatly folded night clothes on his left hand, the dressing gown hanging from his arm.

«I'm sorry if I seemed rude or if you felt I was pressing you, Jack.», she said, lowering her voice even more to say his name. (She had had to call him like that.) «It's just that as much fun as playing Archie and Fern is, it also gets rather tiring after a while and I hoped we could feel comfortable here, when we don't have to be them so thoroughly.», Phryne resumed, squeezing the back of her chair with the clean hand.

«You are right again. Not that it comes as a shock. », Jack said, eliciting a smile from her, and appearing to still have something to add, «I'll go to the bathroom then. »

Phryne had the impression that he had meant to say something else than those plain words, but thought she had perhaps run out of bona fide on his part for the night and decided to keep quiet and leave him be.

While she cleaned away the last traces of lipstick and rouge, she heard him move in the bathroom, the taps being turned on and off, the rustling of his clothes.

When Jack came out, Phryne had already changed too and was looking out the window, dressed in a peach silk pyjamas with black piping around the collar and her usual chinoiserie nightgown.

He meant to make some sort of joke to show that he was slowly feeling more at home, but seeing Phryne's profile beautifully lit by the moonlight had robbed him of all the words.

«I guess we look like a rich scheming couple in a film. », he quipped eventually.

«I don't think that description is very far off from our dears Fern and Archie. », Phryne said with a smile, turning away from the window to look squarely at him. She had never found men's sleepwear that appealing, but she couldn't deny that Jack looked very attractive in his blue-and-white striped pyjamas and navy-blue nightgown.

«Except instead of wanting to relieve some wealthy uncle of his fortune, they want to catch who killed at least three uncles.», he replied, putting his dinner jacket and shirt on the valet stand, «Archie and Fern have some moral sense after all. », Jack continued, joining her by the window.

«From now and then. When they feel like it», Phryne whispered. She could smell the menthol of his mouthwash.

«Any prediction on how they will feel tomorrow? », he asked, lowering his voice too. (Had she put on perfume again? Jack thought when she tied her dressing gown.)

«I wouldn't dare to. More often than not, people tend to surprise themselves. »

**xxx**

Phryne kept tossing and turning in her bed, unable to sleep. It was almost as if the tiredness that ached in her limbs and clouded her head just a few hours ago had vanished as soon as she had laid down.

Even if they were in separate beds, she worried all that commotion might wake up Jack, but his sound and steady breathing told her he was deeply asleep.

Rolling to her right, she could see the shape of his back cut against the moonlight that escaped into the room through the centre gap in the curtains, the bundle of covers going up and down as he inhaled and exhaled.

She wondered how long it had taken him to sleep like that. Considering his time in the war and her own experience both as a nurse and as someone who had been to it too, Phryne guessed he had probably needed some time, years even. She had required five years and yet there were some nights where nightmares took hold of her and she couldn't stay in bed, let alone try to close her eyes. Phryne pondered on whether it also happened to him. It was very likely, she guessed.

Jack turned around, his face towards her now.

At first, Phryne had meant to shift her position, feeling that staying there and watching him sleep would be too intrusive, but at the same time, she hadn't been able to bring herself to look away. Despite the lack of light, she could see that his features were completely relaxed, no signs of tension straining his muscles, some strands of hair falling onto his forehead, almost a child's sleep. She thought about how he had been as a little boy, the things he had liked and the things he had loathed, the friends he had had, the hopes and worries he had harboured. Yet she didn't yearn for having met him during those times or even before the War. The Jack in front of her eyes was the one she loved, with his qualities and flaws, quirks and scars. Phryne almost pushed her hand from between the sheets to touch his face, but things were too complicated already, she didn't need to make them even more so.

She was so grateful for having him in her life. Even if the romantic connection that seemed to be pushing them together didn't lead to anything, she was glad to have a friend in him. In spite of her extroverted nature and the easiness with which she moved amongst people, she had a guarded, vulnerable side that made it difficult for her to trust and forge strong bonds, so she cherished the people with whom she had them very deeply – Jack, Mac, Jane, Dot, Aunt Prudence, Ray. Even Mr Butler, Cec, and Bert that had long crossed beyond being part of her staff.

Phryne took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Exhaustion combined with insomnia was making her weepy and sentimental.

She focused on Jack's breathing, trying to use it as some sort of hypnosis that would help her go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you enjoyed what you've just read and didn't feel disappointed.
> 
> The Côtelettes à la Provençale were taken from Escoffier's 'A Guide To Modern Cookery' as it had happened before. I tried to pick appropriate cocktails, but if they're not, I'm sure you'll be able to overlook that.
> 
> The Australian Pound was introduced in 1910 and replaced by the Australian Dollar in 1966.
> 
> I know this is the third time I direct you to do so, but you can look for the songs mentioned in the story on youtube. I particularly advise you to read the lyrics of 'Three O'Clock In The Morning' in John McCormack's version. I had many tabs opened when I was searching for a song for their waltz but as soon as I found this one, I closed them all at once.
> 
> The Rudolfina-Redoute ball still takes place on 'Carnival Monday' (Rosenmontag) and it's the only bal masqué that survives in Vienna. As if it weren't enough to set it apart amongst the busy ball calendar, it also has the particularity that the ladies attending it wear masks on their faces, whether they are going alone or not, and they can invite men to dance until midnight, unlike what usually happens. It's organised by a student organisation since at least 1912, and from 1927 on has been held at the Hofburg Imperial Palace, as it has been happening with many balls in a tradition that began in the 18th century.
> 
> As usual, I'm looking forward to knowing what you thought of this new installment, so feel free to leave a comment, review, etc., if you see fit.
> 
> Thank you again for your support.


	14. Chapter 14

_Clayton / Bailey: 6 | 4 | 4_

_Jones / Jones   : 4 | 6 | 4_

After updating the scoreboard, the young boy in charge of it always clapped his hands together to take the chalk dust off them.

Against their own expectations, Archie and Fern had won the second set and tied the match, leaving everything open for the final round. It had been closely fought so far. Clara might have a powerful service and Samuel skills to successfully go for a professional career in tennis if golf didn't pan out, but Phryne was quick on her feet and Jack's tenacity made up for his lack of talent.

The weather was very pleasant for playing outside - warm enough and with a blue, cloudless, sunny sky above- and, as expected, everyone looked as if they had sprung out from the society pages. Clara and Phryne wore white dresses with short sleeves and pleated skirts that went a bit below their knees; Miss Fisher was sheltered from the sun by a white turban and Clara had a band around her head like Suzanne Langlen. The men were dressed in white as well: both had long trousers and flat caps but while Jack was wearing a white shirt and a jumper with blue lines around the neckline and the hem, Samuel had one of those recent 'polo' shirts on.

Getting to know each other better had been the main reason for Clara's invitation, at least in her own words, but apart from a brief chat between sets while they drank sips of lemonade and greetings in the breakfast room (for which they were all impeccably dressed in day clothes as if they weren't to change them in twenty minutes time) they hadn't had the chance to delve much into conversation.

It was Phryne's time to serve now. While she readied herself by making the ball bounce against the floor, Clara looked at her watch, a rather impatient look on her face, something she had done some more times already.

With a fluid motion, Phryne threw the ball in the air and hit it at its peak, sending it across the court. Samuel responded with a fast backhand shot that Phryne, now close to the net, turned into a volley in Clara's direction.

Jack did his best to focus on the game and even if usually they were more or less side by side, it was hard not to feel drawn by how elegantly Phryne moved, displaying the same grace playing tennis that had permeated her dancing the night before.

«Archie! », Phryne yelled, breaking the spell.

Not sure exactly how, Jack still managed to clumsily get to the ball in the last moment and force Clara to almost touch the net trying to hit it, his racket falling on the floor afterwards.

«What happened? », Phryne said in the midst of a very potent forehand shot, earning her team a "40" after Clara failed to reach it.

«I lost my bearings for a second, I'm afraid», he replied, picking the racket up.

The chance that Clara and Samuel might have noticed his reaction dawned on him suddenly and he feared the realisation had made him blush. Phryne and Jack's false identities as a couple provided a plausible cover and, despite the obvious advantages a match like theirs could bring, love appeared to be the chief reason why Clara and Samuel were together so Jack believed they would understand it, but hearing them point that out would be too much. Not that he believed that they would actually, considering their impeccable manners but still.

«As long as it doesn't happen again», Phryne said jokingly, but in good faith.

«There's no problem for us if it does», Clara quipped from the other side of the net, but no one mentioned the dreaded topic.

Jack feigned a smile and set himself to focus on the task at hand. As time had gone on, the friendliness character of the game seemed to have vanished and the players were more intense, gripping their rackets tighter and putting more strength and thought into each shot. He could only try to pick up the pace, but Phryne's competitive streak was fully alert and she was unstoppable now.

It was obvious that Clara and Samuel had been playing together for a long time and barely had to talk, even when the ball fell in a spot that could be easily considered within each other's reach without a failed hit, a crash or both rackets touching the ball and awarding a point to their competitors.

Jack used a drop shot he thought rather professional, something he considered even more so when Samuel failed to get to it on time and the play earned them the game, putting them one away from winning the match.

«Well done! », said Phryne with a bright grin on her face, holding half his wrist, half his hand. Her smile became more reserved, which wasn't usual in her. She had meant to touch his forearm – an unwise decision on itself, she thought afterwards even if she didn't care much for them, given that between the first and the second set, Jack had taken off the jumper and rolled up the shirtsleeves and she would be meeting his bare skin – but he had moved suddenly. Jack hadn't done so on purpose and feared she might think that. He folded his fingers and touched two of hers, not only due to some sort of compensation for his motion but because he truly wanted to. Her hand on his had sent a pleasant flash of heat across him he didn't mind it at all. It wasn't the first time they touched like this, but a new kind of energy seemed to seep through it, a remainder of what they had felt during their dances the night before.  _Was he turning into an Austen heroine, reeling from the latest ball?_ , he thought. Not that there was anything wrong with it; he had always found that there was plenty to be commended about those ladies and, truth be told, their relationship was getting more and more like something out of a novel.

Phryne herself was trying to make sense of his action, despite the fact that she couldn't say she was exactly surprised. Perhaps what had struck her, she pondered, was the chance with which it had happened. The other times their hands had touched hadn't been planned ahead, but they had stemmed from moments of comfort, alarm or politeness, rarely simply because they felt like it in the spur of the most ordinary instant.

«One more game and we win », she said, her hand sadly no longer on Jack's, but still stinging with its remembrance.

«And just to think you mentioned your tennis skills weren't quite up to par! », said Samuel. «I know I'm the one working on becoming a professional player, but I'm not sure I still want to invite you to play golf. »

«Does it mean you are giving up the match? », asked Jack, reverting to Archibald Jones. He wasn't sure for how long they could be able to push their feelings aside, but considering how confusing and complex they were, he couldn't deny finding some relief in having the possibility to do so in that particular moment.

«Never! », said Clara.

  _Clayton / Bailey: 6 | 4 | 4_

_Jones / Jones   : 4 | 6 | 5_

**xxx**

Phryne deftly sent the ball to the other side of the court in a spin that made it practically impossible to catch.

Samuel jumped back nevertheless, spraining his ankle when he put his left foot down inverted. He hopped on the heathy one for a couple of seconds, but when he tried to stand on both, his visible effort to not swear made it clear that it hurt too much for that. The other players ran to him, the fact that the match was over left unnoticed.

«It's perhaps best we get you seated», Clara said, putting one of her fiancé's arms over her shoulders for him to hold on to her.

«Yes. I'd like that very much», replied Samuel, but it wasn't that easy. Given their height difference, he was leaning too much to the side she was on.

«Allow me to help», offered Jack, taking Bailey's other arm.

Supported like this, he made his way to a chair and gladly took the glass of lemonade Phryne handed to him.

« Let's see that ankle», she said, pulling one of the empty chairs and signaling him to put his leg on it. « I worked in field hospitals in the war and picked up some things. Would you mind I took off your shoe? »

He finished that sip of lemonade.

« I don't, thank you. »

Phryne carefully rolled up the leg of the trousers up to his knee and relieved him of the sock and the shoe, making Samuel flinch a little when she did so.

«Does it hurt too much? », Clara asking, taking one of his hands in hers.

«A little», he replied.

«Well, it's starting to look a bit swollen to begin with», Phryne said, pointing to the lateral side of his foot. «I don't think it happened, but I'm going to check if it's only sprained or you broke something and it may hurt. »

First, she held his foot with her left hand and with her thumb and index finger pressured on each side of the talus, proceeding to touch the space below afterwards.

«Could you please move your ankle through its full range? Do it slowly, we don't want any further damage. »

Samuel carefully did as told.

«Did it hurt when you did that? », Phryne asked.

«It stung a bit. »

«Now I'm going to make your foot move. Relax it and relax the ankle. »

As Phryne worked, Jack stood aside, watching her. He had seen her carry through many tasks and knew that she was accomplished in many fields, but it was difficult not to be impressed with her efficiency and resourcefulness. In that moment, he didn't even realise immediately that being in a hospital in the front wasn't part of Fern's biography and people might ask questions about it.

«For the moment, I think applying ice for 15 minutes 4 times a day and rest will be enough. Wrapping your ankle might not be a very bad idea either. » Phryne turned to the young man in charge of getting the stray balls and update the scoreboard: «They probably have a first aid kit at reception. Bring me some bandages, long enough to put around Mr. Bailey's ankle. Thank you. »

«I almost feel I should apologise», continued Phryne.

« What for? You won the match fairly. This was an accident. Just that. And that was a really good spin», said Samuel. « I'll be as good as new for tonight, or at least close. Perhaps even before», he said, smiling. «So, I know they are going to display the items for auction just this afternoon, but do you have anything under your eye already?», Samuel asked, to make time as they waited. «There are always rumours – apparently Dr. Jackson brought a vintage coffee mill that's generating some interest. »

Phryne and Jack doubted it was that worthy of speculation but obliged him.

«Well, we are fairly new so this so we aren't exactly in the way of news, but given his occupation, I'm looking forward to Dr. Taylor's contribution. », Phryne said, suddenly glad Yates had picked the Baccarat paperweight. She wasn't expecting that the donours' identity would be known. Normally she didn't care about what people thought of her, but she wasn't that sure it would be very favourable for Archibald and Fern's image if they showed up with something ordinary.

The man came back at last, a tray  with a roll of bandage on his hands, and that topic of conversation dried down.

«I'll need you to put your foot on the floor now for the ankle to be aligned, please.»

Jack pulled the chair away after Samuel had lowered his foot to leave more space for Phryne, who had crouched in front of him. She expertly put the bandage around his ankle and his foot until she had run out of fabric and fastened the loose end with a small metallic clamp.

«You're set. »

«Let's see», Samuel said, getting ready to rise from the chair.

«Lean on me, darling, if you want», Clara offered.

He held on and got up, first on his unscathed foot and then slowing sharing his weight with the other.

«Does it hurt more than before? », Phryne asked, getting on her feet too.

«It still aches, but less so now.»

«Are you fit to walk? », inquired Clara.

«Yes, let me just get my shoe back on and arrange my trousers. »

«Vain man», Clara smiled at him and kissed his cheek, getting on the tip of her toes.

«We are very relieved to know you are feeling better, Mr. Bailey», Jack said. It was true, but it was also true that he found himself wishing he could be as overt about his feelings for Phryne as they had just been, their previous interaction notwitstanding.

«Thank you for your concern and your invaluable help, Mr. and Mrs. Jones », Samuel said, raising his eyes, but still tying his shoe, after putting his sock back on and unwrapping his trouser leg. «Well, I'm ready when you're ready. »

Meanwhile, Clara had finished her sip of lemonade and taken a little silver case from her handbag, hung off the back of the chair, and rubbed some perfume on her wrists and the back of her neck. Once she was finished, she put the perfume back and held the handbag in her fingers.

«Vain lady», said Samuel with a smile.

«Let's get you inside. It's getting hot to stay here », Clara said tenderly, putting his arm around her shoulders again.

«Will you need help? », asked Jack.

«That would be very kind, but I think I'll manage now. There will be no dancing tonight, I'm afraid, but I can limp my way to the clubhouse. »

«I guess we too should change and come down to lunch afterwards», suggested Jack, taking a quick glance at his watch when they were back in the lobby of the Elvsworth.

«I can't wait for a warm bath», Phryne said, almost clapping with glee.

«Go ahead then. I'll check if it's possible to book a table in the terrace», he said, trying to shake away the image her words had conjured in his mind.

**xxx**

It had been indeed possible to get such a table and, tucked in a corner of the porch overlooking the golf course, Phryne and Jack were outside enjoying a very pleasant luncheon of light salad, 'Spring Chicken Princess Hélène', and wine from Maiden Creek. Clad in a buttercup silk velvet jacket and light silk voile tunic and skirt while he was wearing a hat, a light grey three-piece suit with a white shirt and a silk burgundy repp tie with dark gold ribbon stripes, they looked the utmost picture of sophistication.

«I wonder what our  _friends_  are doing. No one is around», remarked Phryne, with a sheepish expression on her face while they were waiting for dessert.

«Maybe they are resting before all the emotion tonight may bring», replied Jack. «The auction seems to be quite an affair around here. Rumours, high stakes, a year of preparations – it is bound to tire anyone out even before the event itself takes place», he continued, lowering his voice.

Phryne let out a small laugh.

«I think I'll do the same after lunch, to be honest. I slept very poorly and the tennis match knocked the few energy I had out of me, I'm afraid», she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face to under her white fine straw cloche.

«I hope it wasn't my presence in the room the cause of disturbance». He wasn't meaning to be falsely humble, neither to coax compliments out of her, but genuinely concerned instead. People could be quite particular about their sleeping arrangements.

«No, not at all. You're a very quiet sleeper», she said in a reassuring tone. « I just couldn't stop thinking about certain things», her voice less soft now.

«I'm sorry to hear that. Nights like those aren't easy». Jack wished he could say something better, something that could do justice to how much he sympathized with that feeling, that could properly convey the many nights he had been the one unable to shut his eyes and fall into slumber.

«Was it the case that kept you up? », he ended up asking.

«In part», Phryne replied, looking squarely at him.

Jack took a sip of his wine. He might have slept last night, but had already had his share of blank ones over her, over them.

«I wish things were simpler. I truly do», he conceded eventually.

«I am always up to a challenge, you know that», she said rather seriously.

«It's not the most immediate challenges that worry me.» (How hardly he had had to fight saying «Phryne».)

Jack lowered his eyes for a second, bringing his gaze back to her afterwards.

«You concern yourself too much with the future» (How hardly she had had to fight saying «Jack».) «I have a scarred heart too, you know».

«I do, but I can't help it. For now, at least. »

Phryne put her hand next to his, Fern's rings gleaming in the sun.

«I'm sorry. For this morning, I mean. »

«Don't be», Phryne said earnestly, her hand moving from the tabletop onto his.

«It's not fair when I am the one who thinks everything is complicated enough already and yet go on and do something like that. »

He didn't touch her fingers or reached for her hand, but he didn't take his away.

«Do you regret it? », Phryne was nearly sure of his answer, but felt compelled to ask nevertheless, even if there was still some chance of his reply hurting her.

Jack kept quiet for some instants and sighed. He vehemently wished they were having that conversation somewhere else than the terrace of the Elvsworth. It was almost comical.

«I don't, but it doesn't make it a less imprudent thing to do», he paused. « I'm tremendously sorry for disappointing you», Jack had struggled with what word to use and still wasn't very convinced with the one he had ended up choosing.

«I think it's best if I do indeed go take that nap», Phryne said, taking her hand off his and putting the napkin on the table, keeping her posture the best she could.

Jack meant to apologise again, but didn't see how it could be of any help or use in that moment. He kept quiet instead, chastising himself in silence while he watched Phryne walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I hope you enjoy this chapter. Given the time that it took for me to post it, such a small(ish) installment may seem a bit disappointing but this was one of those instances where the story basically wrote itself. I had meant finish the it farther ahead in the plan I have but was rather pleased with how things turned out and thought it would make for a good chapter ending.
> 
> I'd like to thank two people (not including any reference because I'm not sure if they would mind it or not) for their assistance regarding tennis details. Any mistakes derived from interpreting their advice are on me though.
> 
> Phryne's assessment of Samuel's ankle was aided by youtube tutorials and articles I found online, so I kindly ask you to not be too bothered if there are some mistakes, despite my intense research.
> 
> 'Spring Chicken Princess Hélène' is based upon a recipe by the often referenced Escoffier, published in 'A Guide To Modern Cookery'.
> 
> Phryne's outfit when she's having luncheon with Jack is based on one she is wearing in promo shots and that will appear on the 7th episode of the new season, according to the exhibition catalogue for the Costume Exhibition to be held at Rippon Lea Estate from May 1st, 2015. I was looking for a look that fit the mood and details I envisioned for this situation and when I came across it my search came to halt -it was perfect. I just swapped the trousers for a skirt because The Elvsworth is supposed to be rather conservative and couldn't shake the Fleuri disapproval of Phryne's taste for them from my mind.
> 
> I hope you are looking forward to reading what comes next.
> 
> As usual, thank you for your support. It means a great deal to me.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment/review or a kudo, if you want. I always love to read from you and get to know what you think of the story and what details you liked best.


	15. Chapter 15

A knock on the door. Faint, at first, as if heard in the distance, but gradually feeling closer. It wasn't a loud bang, yet it was imbued with a certain sense of urgency, particularly considering the 'do not disturb' sign outside.

Phryne opened her eyes, her head clouded by the memories she had tried to stifle with that turbulent sleep and her gaze on the empty bed beside hers. Four minutes past five. She wasn't late yet to ready herself to the evening, she thought, glancing at the folding travel clock in a squared black leather case, the round white dial like an eye.  _Jack's travel clock_. What if something had happened to him _,_  she wondered, pondering on the sign hanging from the knob again.

In a hurry, Phryne got up from the bed and rushed to the door. Despite the sorrowful outcome of their lunch, the possibility of him being hurt struck a great deal of fear and anxiety in her, twisting her stomach into a knot.

«Jack! », she said when she found him alive and apparently unscathed by the doorway, a sigh of relief escaping her, the supposed 'Archie' momentarily forgotten.

«I'm sorry to barge in like this, but Bernard Maxwell is dead. »

Jack's demeanour was even more restrained than usual. His back were very straight, his left hand curled into a fist and his eyes not as focused on hers as it often happened, but his voice had sounded very professional since the beginning.

«Dead? », said an incredulous Phryne, a tacit agreement quickly established between them - the current circumstances didn't afford them the luxury of avoiding each other or dissecting what had happened not many hours ago, at least for now.

Jack walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

«I can't stay long», he said, lowering his voice, «Maxwell seems to have drowned in the lake of the golf course. Considering that no one is supposed to swim there and he was half in, half out, I would reckon foul play is very likely. »

«So much for our theory, or at least part of it», Phryne said. « If he killed Siddall, Branson, and Logan it will be even more difficult to prove it and if he was killed by the same murderer that dispatched his colleagues, I'm sure that person will be more cautious than before. »

«Yes, the range of possibilities continues as broad as ever», he acknowledged.

«Has anyone called the police? », Phryne asked, «Officially, I mean. »

«Yes. They're here already. »

«Does it mean the undercover operation is finished?», she inquired, retrieving a dark blue short jacket from the wardrobe after assessing the state of her white tunic and skirt and deeming them not wrinkled enough to change.

«Not yet. Even if I'm still in charge of the investigation, Commissioner Harker is here to give the impression that the case wasn't left to the constables only. I must go now, nevertheless. I just came upstairs to give you the news and relay this information. »

«Go, I'll join you in a minute. »

Jack stood in the middle of the room for an instant as if he had forgotten what to do in the moment, but nodded and left a couple of seconds later, like he had been pulled outside by some sort of silent alarm that had rung too close.

Phryne washed her face, put on her shoes, gloves, and hat and exited the room. Instead of taking the normal route to the course, she decided to make her way through the service corridors. Nearly certain that the door at the end of the hallway would lead to a quicker path, she went ahead. She doubted the maids and other staff could join the people startled by the news yet nevertheless curious to see the murder scene, but she guessed they were probably gathered somewhere else all the same and she would find a clear passage. She walked down the stairs and opened the door on her right, believing the other would give access to the kitchens or some other 'off-limits' area.  _Good job_ , she thought to herself upon reaching the golf course, even if she still had to walk for some time to get to the crime scene. From where she stood, Phryne couldn't see much more than a corner of the clump of people far away by the water, the rest hidden by the trees. A secluded and convenient spot for a murder, no doubt.

«Did something happen meanwhile?», she asked Jack, when she was finally by his side, after some trouble to locate him in the midst of the crowd on the edge of the perimeter set by the constables Collins and Brown. Some of the bystanders were in day outfits, but many were already clothed in the elegant dresses and dinner jackets they had meant to don that evening.

«Nothing of importance so far. The Commissioner has been observing the body and looking for some clues», his voice betrayed how difficult it was for him to take it all in from the sidelines. «I guess», he added, as if suddenly conscious that such tension might give him away in case anyone but her had heard him.

«Who found him? », she asked.

«Richard Turner, the head groundsman», Jack replied, discreetly turning his head towards the man in his 40s wearing a grey smock over a white shirt and grey waistcoat and trousers that stood under a tree not far away. Turner's eyes were downcast with shock but also apprehension, probably anticipating the police interview still to come, and he kept rotating the brim of his hat in his hands. «He was checking the course to see if everything was ready for tomorrow's tournament», he continued.

«I'll take a look around», Phryne whispered in Jack's direction before moving alongside the perimeter.

Collins nodded very discreetly when their gazes met and Harker also acknowledged her presence through the slight arrangement of his hat.

As Jack had told her, Maxwell was lying with his legs and feet on land and his head face down on the water, his arms floating ahead of him as if in a strange celebratory gesture.

Sunlight hit the crest signet ring that had launched their suspicions, and, from afar, his coat seemed to be drenched but his trousers appeared to be dry and his brown shoes were still shined but from the tip, now a little muddy. As she analysed the scene, Phryne was also partaking in the frustration of not being able to be as close as she wished, particularly because she got the impression that the dirt of the margin of the lake right next to body had been recently disturbed and not by police procedures. She had a keen and trained eye, but that could only do so much and, as it happened with god and the devil, important clues were (frequently) in the details.

«Let me see him. I have to see him», a distressed Yates cried as he came running from the clubhouse, his hat falling on the floor as he sprinted down the slope nearby. Olympia was in tow trying to get to him, clutching her grey straw hat with a yellow ribbon to her head. «Max, Max...», he said, as he pushed people aside to get to his lifeless friend. « You have to let me see him», he told Collins, when the constable prevented him from going farther, his voice breaking in the end and his face rumpled in pain.

«I'm sorry, sir, but I can't allow you past this point», the constable replied in a compassionate yet firm tone.

«Come here», Olympia said, holding her husband in her arms, his body almost limp but for the sobs that shook him. «Cry all you want, dear», she said, patting his back lightly with gloveless hands, «I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. »

The people around them shuddered in their places, uncomfortable now. Apparently one thing was to go and check a murder scene almost out of voyeuristic curiosity, but witnessing someone's emotions, raw and out in the open, would be too much.

Phryne wondered where Yates might have been to only know of Maxwell's death so recently. As the interim President of the club, it was expected he'd be the first to be notified of such an occurrence, even before the police was called.

For the moment, he seemed in no shape but to cry against his wife, which surprised her because she would never guess Yates was to give in to emotions that easily and in public, she recognised with some bias.

Phryne took another look in the body's direction. Brown had replaced Collins in the perimeter and Hugh was taking notes of what Harker was telling him, the Police photographer moving around them to take images of what the commissioner ordered him to.

Olympia saw her and nodded. Phryne had already thought it might be expected of her to go and see if she could be of any assistance if acknowledged, but the coroner had just arrived and getting Maxwell's body out of the water and turning it around might provide additional evidence which would certainly be welcome. She glanced about, hoping to find someone who could step in for her but Taylor, Clara, and Samuel seemed to be absent and Jack was also grappling with how to conduct an investigation in these particular terms.

Dr. Philips was followed by his assistant, Kingsley, another pair of uniformed constables carrying a stretcher and one officer dressed in swimming gear.

Harker greeted them by touching the brim of his hat and, after what appeared to be a brief description of the circumstances, moved aside to let them work. The coroner and his assistant moved around the body for some more time, the latter taking notes of what his boss was relaying.

Phryne was growing impatient. As lurid as it might sound, following protocol was costing her precious time, particularly now that Olympia had singled her out from the crowd.

Following Harker's instructions, the officer in the bathing clothes walked to the margin opposite of where the body was and got into the water, swimming carefully until he was in front of it. He then proceeded by grabbing Maxwell's wrists while his colleagues got hold of his ankles.

«1,2,3», he counted and they all lifted the body a few centimeters over water. He walked forward while the other constables took some steps back and as soon as they were all over dry land, Kingsley took the other wrist of the deceased. They held him like that for a couple of minutes so Harker and the coroner could check if there was anything that might be of importance now that he was no longer submerged.

Dr. Philips wrote something on the clip board in his hands and asked the photographer to take a picture, which wasn't easy considering how he had to bend himself whilst trying not to be hit by the drops of water falling from Maxwell's clothes. He then signalled for the policemen to lay the body on the stretcher, which they did with care but also relief, now that it no longer weighted on their hands and arms.

Harker, Dr. Philips, Kingsley, and Hugh hovered over Maxwell, taking notice of any evidence that might be on his head, neck, back, legs and heels. Apart from a smudge on the right side of his collar that might as well be just mud, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. All that watching and note-taking forced Phryne to bite her tongue so she wouldn't shout her exasperation at them and Jack seemed to be in a similar state of mind, judging by how he kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Maxwell was covered at last with the white sheet one of the constables produced from under the stretcher. Yates' crying got even more intense and he buried his face on Olympia's shoulder, probably trying to keep away the image of his friend being carried to the ambulance parked in front of the clubhouse that would take him to the morgue in Melbourne.

« Don't you think it's best if you go sit down for a while and have some water, dear? », Olympia asked her husband, wiping his face with her hands. « You can't help him anymore, Wendell. »

Yates looked back to the lake and nodded in defeat, letting Olympia lead him uphill with an arm around his waist. His slumped shoulders and bowed head made him look such a shadow of the man he usually presented to the world, Phryne actually felt sorry for him.

Collins headed the sombre procession, clearing the path and passing by right next to where Jack impatiently stood.

Phryne rushed to their side the fastest she could without actually running, still arriving in time to see the constable hand Jack a piece of paper very discreetly.

They followed the police to the ambulance, the possible oddness of their action camouflaged by the fact that they weren't the only ones doing so. Even if the crowd would have to take a similar path to return to the clubhouse sooner or later, people stood so close to the stretcher no one seemed to want to lose a single beat about the situation, probably to fuel the rumour mill afterwards.

«Ladies and Gentlemen, I am not aware of how Mr. Yates intends to proceed regarding the auction and other possible activities scheduled for this weekend following the sudden demise of Dr. Bernard Maxwell and it's understandable if you are in shock and would prefer to leave the Elvsworth premises as soon as possible, but even if it's not mandatory, it would be highly encouraged that you remained here until tomorrow at least. »

Always the practical man, Harker addressed the people in the parking lot after the ambulance left, his voice as commanding as expected, but still retaining some gentleness. Sheltered from the sun by the shadow of the clubhouse on their right, the audience wasn't comprised by the entirety of the members of the Elvsworth, but he was sure that between family connections and friendly relationships the message wouldn't take long to spread.

« Given the remote location of the murder scene, you may believe you haven't seen anything that may help the police, but my experience has taught me that details we deem to irrelevant may be of great importance, so we may have the need to interview you over the course of the next days», he continued.

Jack and Phryne looked around, trying to gauge some reactions to the Commissioner's request. The guests started murmuring to those standing next to them, but so far no one had openly contested it. There was a high chance the most outspoken hadn't even gone down to the lake just to look at the Police work though, so trusting everybody would be that willing to comply would be premature.

«Fern!», a woman's voice called, loud enough to make herself heard amongst the disbanding crowd.

Phryne turned. Clara and Samuel were walking up from the golf course to the parking lot with muddy soles, coming from the left. She was wearing a black long chiffon coat over a wrap dress in the same fabric with a light-pink and green camellia pattern on a dark background which fell into a dropped waist and a pleated hem, complemented by a dark cloche hat with pearl piping, black shoes and off-white gloves. He still limped a little, but appeared to no longer be in much pain and looked as dapper as usual in a three-piece dark olive herringbone suit, two-tone brogues in white and brown, white shirt and a striped tie in burgundy and green, with no collar bar this time even if the shirt had the holes for it.

«Miss Clayton», Phryne said when they were near her and Jack.

«This is such a dreadful situation. I can hardly believe it took place here », Clara said, with a certain sense of disbelief, clutching the handle of her leather bag.

«Did you know him well? », Phryne asked, trying to clear her last night's doubts about how suddenly they had taken leave of the table.

«Not exactly, but I have been coming to the club for such a long time, it's hard not to be shocked nevertheless», she said with a light shrug. «Particularly when he joined our table yesterday», Clara continued.

«I can barely wrap my mind around this, to be honest», said Samuel, scratching his forehead, under the band of his boater hat.

«Can you think of someone who might want to harm him?», Jack asked, reverting his attention back to them after trying to figure out the best way to follow Harker and not be away from the investigation the commissioner was conducting. «Judging by last night, he seemed to be well regarded at the club», he added, trying to smooth his tone, dangerously close to one he used when taking statements.

«No one springs to mind, but nothing could predict what happened to Mr. Siddall, Dr. Branson or Mr. Logan and they died in such strange circumstances», said Clara.

«It's rather frightening to think that someone may be out there vying to kill so many people», remarked her fiancé.

«The Commissioner advised people to stay at The Elvsworth, in case they have seen something that may help the investigation or that they may need to be interviewed», said Phryne, in a flat tone.

« I think people will want to comply, expecting this crime gets sorted out as soon as possible and that everything goes back to normal », said Clara.

«Mr. Yates seems devastated. Mrs. Yates took him inside and maybe we should check on him, see if we could help in some way», Jack suggested, after seeing Harker ask Collins and Turner, the groundsman, to stay outside and walk into the clubhouse.

«They had been friends for many years. My father once mentioned that Mr. Yates and Dr. Maxwell went to school together and their fathers had been friends too», revealed Clara, as the four of them made their way to the lobby of The Elvsworth.

Jack struggled for an instant whether to offer Phryne his arm or not. It seemed a rather trivial thing in such a context, but they couldn't let their own issues transpire into Archie and Fern's life and they were supposed to be as shocked as everyone else. Having to juggle both realities had been challenging from the start but it had also been fun until now. He nearly wished they had had an actual fall out than this. If that had been the case, there weren't many doubts about how apologising and making up were the first steps to take, something that wasn't that clear for them in this moment.

Phryne couldn't exactly pinpoint the cause of his apprehension, but she knew that underneath the genuine concern for the case he was trying to figure out what to do regarding them in that particular moment. Things were complicated as they were, so she chose to not try to probe any further and they ended up walking side but side but without any physical contact.

Commissioner Harker was talking to one of the receptionists and Jack worried that by reaching to Yates he might lose him, but there was no time to dwell on that. He couldn't backpedal now.

Phryne, Jack, Clara, and Samuel found Yates slumped in a wicker chair in the far left corner of the bar, weakly holding a glass, the sugar particles that hadn't mixed with the water still clung to the bottom. Olympia was by his side, his right hand between hers. He no longer had tears running down his face, but he looked rather haggard nevertheless, now that they had given way to exhaustion.

«We are deeply sorry for your loss, Mr. Yates», Clara said.

Yates thanked timidly and seemed to be about to cry again.

«I'm also very sorry for Dr. Maxwell's demise and the difficult time you are going through», said Phryne, looking at him, but shifting her gaze to Olympia, who seemed to still hold against her not having run to their side immediately.

«I didn't get the chance to know him very well, but I believe he will be greatly missed». Jack was quite aware of how much of a platitude those words were, but the situation seemed to call for him to say something in spite of that.

«Thank you all», Yates brought himself to utter, raising his eyes to the faces of the people in front of him. «Your friendship does offer some comfort. We had agreed to meet once I came back from Melbourne bu-», his words trailed off.

Olympia put an arm around her husband's shoulders and kissed him tenderly on the temple, her eyes glistening with tears too, but she took a deep breath to compose herself.

Phryne looked surreptitiously to Jack. That wasn't the proper time, obviously, but they had to find out more about that trip and ascertain if it made up for a strong alibi or a flimsy excuse; both had their fair share of grieving people who turned out to be the murderers after all.

«Don't you think it would do you good to lie down for a while? », Olympia said.

«I don't want the auction to go on», Yates replied.

«Of course not, dear», she said. «That's one more reason for you to get some rest. You'll need it for the next days», Olympia continued, putting the left corner of Yates' collar back under the edge of his waistcoat.

«But there's so much to do still. »

«Don't worry, Wendell. I'll take care of it and Taylor will help me, once I find him. »

«We can also be of assistance in any way, in case it's needed», Samuel said, inadvertently calling attention back to the four people standing outside that conversation who, each on their own way, were feeling as if they were intruding on such close exchange.

«I will go, but please promise me you will call if you need me in some away», Yates said, looking at her with pleading eyes and holding her hand.

«I will, don't worry», she said, smiling reassuringly at him.

«Louis, please get Dr. Jackson and tell him to meet me in the lobby in five minutes. I think he went outside», Olympia said to the waiter who was collecting empty glasses from a table nearby. He nodded and went to the bar to leave the tray, walking into the verandah afterwards.

«I apologise for disturbing you, Mr Yates», Harker said when he joined them.

No one seemed to have noticed him approaching, judging by the surprised looks on their faces, a feeling mixed with relief and curiosity in Phryne and Jack's case.

«I was wondering if there was a more private space where the police could take Mr. Turner's statement», he asked.

«Of course», Yates said, trying to appear at least a little bit put together in front of the Commissioner. «Please request anything the Police may need to find and catch whoever committed these dastardly crimes – not only the one against Max, but also against Mr. Siddall, Dr. Branson and Mr. Logan», he offered, slightly moved by the perspective of bringing the killer or killers to justice, even if only for a moment, going back to his distressed state later.

«You can use my office. Ask one of the girls at the reception to show you the way», he said, handing him the keys he took out of his pocket, his words no longer sounding very clear.

«Thank you, Mr Yates. I will do that. I can assure you we are doing our best to conclude this investigation as soon as possible and with the best outcome we can expect», Harker said.

Yates didn't reply this time, apparently too beaten to do so, weakly nodding instead.

«Are you ready to go? », Olympia asked him, with her hand on his arm.

«Yes, I think so». Yates got up from the chair.

«My husband is going to get some rest. If you need something please let me know, Commissioner Harker», she offered, taking Wendell's arm.

«I will, Mrs. Yates», he replied nodding.

Olympia escorted her husband through the space between Harker and Phryne, a cloud of dove-grey chiffon floating behind her.

No one quite knew what to say until the commissioner excused himself and left, walking towards the lobby.

«We don't seem to be needed now. Perhaps we should take Mr. Yates example and get some time out to grasp what happened? », suggested Phryne, paving the way to follow Harker without raising suspicion.

«I agree. I think I'll have a cup of tea first, but I would like to go upstairs later», Clara said, apparently still reeling from the shock. «What about you, Sam? », she asked, turning to her fiancé.

«For the time being, I would like to sit down. My ankle seems to loath me at the moment», he replied with a little wince.

«We will meet later, I believe? ». Jack was making a great deal of effort to not look at the door and reveal that his attention was caught up somewhere else.

«Oh, yes, for dinner. I doubt the evening will be as joyful as yesterday's, but that would be pleasant, I think», Clara said.

«Indeed. Until later, then», Phryne added.

She looked at Jack and they turned around, leaving Clara and Sam to take the empty table vacated by the Yateses.

When they got to the lobby, one of the receptionists was guiding Harker out the main door, taking him through the same path Phryne and Jack had walked on to their admission interviews.

«I have an idea», she told him, signalling him to follow them outside.

Yet instead of turning to the right as the Commissioner and the girl had done, Phryne made her way across the slabs on the lawn in front of her, carefully monitoring Hugh and his witness' whereabouts, with Jack right next to her. The constable was facing the door, expecting Harker's orders, but the other man had his back turned to them and tapped his fingers against each other, desperately needing to smoke.

The gravel crunched under their feet as they walked ahead until Phryne looked around and gently pulled Jack's coat sleeve (grabbing him by the arm would be too dangerous). She meant to lead him to follow her as she hid behind the first of the motorcars parked on their right and walk towards the side of the house shielded from view by the wall of polished vehicles.

The curtains behind the rows of windows under the canopy were all shut, but for the last two, recently pulled apart by the receptionist.

Phryne and Jack could see her excusing herself and leave Harker in the middle of the office. The commissioner paced around the desk and analysed the books on the shelf behind him, taking that chance to gather some more facts about Yates probably.

«Come», Phryne said, moving to her left until she was behind a burgundy convertible with a beige top and pearl tires.

Jack did as told. Despite not seeing eye to eye at all times and the fraught way they had parted at lunch, he trusted her instincts when they didn't seem bent on endangering them.

«Careful. You wouldn't want to scratch Miss Clayton's car, would you? », Phryne said, raising an eyebrow, when Jack leaned too close to look to the clubhouse through the back window of the motorcar.

«A brand new Duesenberg J Coupe Murphy? Good and expensive taste. How are you aware that this is her car? », he asked, not exactly sure why he had done so. He was actually more surprised when she wasn't knowledgeable about things.

«A little bird told me. »

«A little bird with access to vehicle registration? », Jack said still without looking at her but for a quick glance.

«I'm not familiar with what the little bird does have access to, but it also told me that that dark-blue Cadillac is Samuel's, the green Packard over there belongs to Yates, and that this black Bentley to General Ogilvy», Phryne replied, concealing her presence behind the last car.

«Thank you. That was very informative», Jack said without a single trace of irony. In fact, his voice had had a rather playful tone that surprised them both and made them fall into silence for an instant.

Phryne broke eye contact and took a deep breath.

«I think we'll have to sprint alongside the hedge but unless Harker has locked the door to the board hallway I would say we will be in. »

«To follow the interview from the built-in cupboard, I reckon? », Jack said, the steps of her scheme falling into place in his mind.

«Well, I know it's not perfect, but it will have to do, I'm afraid», Phryne argued with a shrug. «Ready? »

«Ready. »

They ran towards their goal as discreetly as they could, which was no small feat considering the circumstances.

When they were by the door, both looked around one last time and given that no one seemed to have noticed them, Jack reached out to the doorknob. When it turned and clicked, they let out breaths they hadn't even realised they had been holding.

**xxx**

Phryne and Jack could barely see each other but they didn't need to do so to be fully aware of how little space there was between them.

They were seated side by side on a little bench originally designed for shoes and it took a great deal of control for them to maintain their breathing at a regular pace. Their bodies touched. At first, both had tried to covertly sit as far as they could, but the cupboard was so tight their efforts had been in vain. In hindsight, Jack was ashamed of having attempted so and Phryne was parsing if such attitude had derived from hurt or cowardice. Nevertheless, neither of them could deny that such proximity also elicited another type of feelings – a humming in their hearts and a rather pleasant warmth that ran up and down them.

They took turns looking surreptitiously at each other, as if to gather strength to talk.

«Phryne», Jack murmured like it was a word he didn't say very often.

She turned to him, trying to make out his features. The cupboard was almost completely in the dark but from the light that came through the narrow gap left open for them to listen more clearly to the interview.

«Yes, Jack», she murmured back. It was odd to hear him call her by her given name without being in peril, but she couldn't deny that it she was very pleased to hear him do so.

Jack moved in his seat to face her. His knee brushed hers and his thoughts got even more jumbled than what they already were.

«Take a seat, please, Mr. Turner», Harker said on the other side of the door.

Phryne and Jack's faces crumbled with disappointment, coupled with a sigh, in his case. It had been so difficult to even entertain the thought of saying what he had meant to.

«What do Aunt Prudence and the Commissioner have in common?«, she paused for an instant. «Terrible timing», Phryne uttered, both out of the realisation of how comical the situation was, but also expecting that the remark would loosen the tension.

Jack let out a small laugh that he tried to smother with his hands, but it quickly gave way to paying full attention to what was about to take place at Yates' office.

**xxx**

«When I got to the lake, I saw right away that something wasn't right», judging by his tone of voice, the head groundsman seemed calmer now. Perhaps he had managed to smoke that cigarette at some point.

Phryne had taken a look through the keyhole to see where they had settled and get a better sense of who was talking.

Harker was leaning on the brim of the massive mahogany desk behind him, while Turner and Collins were seated on the chairs ahead.

«And what did you do next? »

«I got closer and when I saw it was a person face down on the water I ran to him. »

There was a small moment of silence that Phryne and Jack interpreted as being filled by Harker nodding or doing some sort of signal, given that Turner resumed talking.

«He wasn't moving and didn't seem to be breathing, so I put my hand on his neck to see if he had a pulse. He didn't and I thought it was best not to touch him anymore. Leave everything to the police.

«You proceeded well, Mr. Turner. Did you know it was Dr. Maxwell? »

«Not until the police came, no. »

«Did people like him around here? »

«Yes, I think so. »

«What about the other members of the board? Not only Mr. Yates, but also Mr. Sidall, Dr. Branson, and Mr. Logan? »

«People liked them too, I reckon, or they wouldn't have voted for them. »

«The employees of the club? »

« They were good bosses and paid well and on time. I don't see why anyone would want to kill them», Turner replied.

It seemed highly unlikely that he would sell out any of his own, but Jack didn't doubt him. During the preliminary investigation of the club, they hadn't found disgruntled former employees and despite it being very difficult to be hired to work there, people still tried extremely hard to if there was a vacancy.

«Did you see something or someone out of the ordinary? Not only close to the lake this afternoon but anywhere else in the club and in the days before too. »

The office was quiet again but for Hugh writing on his notebook.

«Take your time, Mr. Turner», Harker assured him.

«Before I noticed that something wasn't right in the lake», the man said eventually, «I saw two people walking right next to the trees by the fence». He spoke in a way that betrayed that he wasn't very sure about how important that detail might actually be.

« Now that I think about it», he continued, « I never met them. They seemed to be coming down the course from the house, but I never saw them again and I didn't see them when I ran to the reception to call the police either». His voice was louder now and there was even a certain eagerness to share that information.

« Could you describe them for us, please? », Harker asked in a rather flat tone. Jack recognised that he was trying to convey that no detail was small enough without actually voicing that; for the moment it was just that, a detail, in order to keep the possible course of the investigation from external people.

«They were far away but they appeared to be a couple, yes, and their clothes were in dark colours», he paused for an instant, but Harker didn't try to rush him. « I think they were young. At least they seemed to move easily», the groundsman continued. «One of them was wearing a dress or something like that and the other was tall», Turner's words came out faster and faster as the memories sprung back in his mind. «And he had a limp; the tall one had a limp. »

Phryne and Jack could barely see each other, but they didn't need to do so to be fully aware of how they had drawn the same conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Jack could like the rest of us on holiday and put his wristwatch on the nightstand, but I came up with the bit of the travel clock before thinking about that detail and I'm afraid I liked it too much to get rid of it. Besides, Jack strikes me as the kind of person who would have a travel clock.
> 
> I'm sorry for the delay in updating this story but writing wasn't happening despite how much I tried. I'd like to thank you for your continued support and understanding and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> I have the story fully planned, particularly the details of the case, so I think it would be fun to ask for your predictions about it.
> 
> As usual, feel free to leave a comment/review. Hearing from you means a great deal.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for The Forsyte Saga. It may seem weird, but I thought best to say something.

«Does this bring anyone to mind? », Harker asked, when Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson exited the closet. He was leaning on the front edge of the desk now that Turner was gone and the curtains were shut but retained a certain formality; he was the Commissioner after all.

«I would say Clara Clayton and Samuel Bailey, but we are still missing a motive», Phryne said, resting her hands on the back of a chair. «It's true that they didn't seem particularly thrilled when Maxwell joined our table after dinner, but if more people killed because they didn't exactly like someone, there wouldn't be enough police officers in the world, I'm afraid. »

«I think the letter I handed you earlier may have some answers, sir», Hugh said, looking in turns at the detective and the Commissioner, not sure about the procedure to follow in such situation.

Jack reached to the inner pocket of his coat and took out a folded envelope.

«Could you summarise what's here, Collins? », he said, after a glimpse at two pages covered in the constable's well-drawn handwriting.

«We have just finished reading and analysing Logan's diary. It was very extensive and this is a rather intricate story, I'm afraid», Hugh explained.

«Go on. We have some time», Jack said.

«Well, apparently this 'Lord Signet Ring' wanted to buy the Elvsworth and turn it into a luxury estate. »

«Buy the Elvsworth? What for? Isn't this a bastion of Melbourne's high society? », said Phryne, slightly incredulous but with some irony tinging her voice.

«Due to its location, perhaps? », said Jack. «I wouldn't be surprised if the land alone were worth many thousands of pounds; It's close to the city and yet far enough for one to enjoy the pleasures of the countryside whilst maintaining a sense of distinction. Maybe there are even some gold mines left around. »

«It's a theory», Phryne said, not very convinced, picking up a clock on the desk with a dial encased in the face of a wooden golf club and turning it slightly to Jack, who had to do his best to conceal a smile. In that moment, neither remembered what was hanging over them.

«Maybe they didn't want to sell and that's why more than half the board was murdered», said Jack, regaining his professional posture.

«According to the statutes, any change to its property must be presented by the board to the members to be discussed», said Harker, recalling what he had read when the police were preparing the investigation. «Maybe someone was not in favour of even starting the whole process. »

«It doesn't end there, does it, Constable Collins? »

«No, indeed, Miss Fisher. As you know, Mr. Logan was the town Councillor in charge of urban planning. The Elvsworth is located in a restricted area given that it's near the habitat of the Eastern Bristlebird, the  _Dasyornis brachypterus_ », Hugh said, trying to muster his best Latin. « This bird is an endangered species, so it's not possible to build anything new there. The value of the land, very high already as you pointed out, Sir, doubles or triples due to being exempt from it. »

«Did Mr. Logan need to approve the change? », Harker asked.

«And I guess he wasn't very keen on it», continued Jack.

«Indeed, sir. It had to be presented to the Mayor eventually, but the first step had to be taken by the councillor. Mr. Logan wrote that his deputy wouldn't hold so strongly to these beliefs and that 'Harris doesn't care about the bird nor about the club and he can be easily influenced by the right amount of pounds'», Collins said, reading from his notebook.

«Considering that Logan put it out so bluntly in his secret journal, I'm not surprised Mr. Harris didn't say anything when the Police asked him if there was any tension at the office, then», Phryne said.

«Clara's family made their fortune in many businesses, including construction», Jack said, pointing out something they had ascertained during their study of the members of the Elvsworth.

Phryne bolted to a particular section of the shelf, her eyes quickly scanning the spines until she picked out a particular book. While she flicked through it, the men in the room were silent, hoping to see what would come out of that action, especially in light of her visible determination.

«Meet Mr Edward Clayton», Phryne said, turning the book towards the policemen. The picture showed the elements of the board of Elvsworth, in evening wear, sitting around a table, joined by their wives and, on the far right, a man with dark hair and a huge smile on his face.

«Not only does he have a signet ring», she continued, moving her finger towards his right hand, perched on the arm of the chair he was sitting on, «but he also went to Eton and Cambridge, where he surely brushed shoulders with enough Lords or lords-to-be, not to mention that he was appointed Commander of the Most Excellent Order of The British Empire two months ago. It doesn't make him a Lord, but if he was pretentious and pushed Logan around intensely, I can see why he was calling him so in his notes. »

Phryne closed the book with a thud and put it back in its place.

«Could that be that family loyalty mixed with greed and the joys of bureaucracy are our motive, after all? », she said.

«It may seem a little far-fetched», Jack said, conscious of the doubtful expression on Harker's face, «but in many years with the Police, I've seen my fair share of seemingly far-fetched reasons for murder».

«What I don't understand is why would Clayton enlist his daughter and her fiancé? I'd think it's very likely he knows someone who knows someone who could take care of these matters for a fee», said Harker.

«Maybe Clara did it on her own accord without Father even asking for it? I wouldn't be surprised if there was more to her than what meets the eye», Phryne said.

«Or maybe he didn't want loose ends? », suggested Collins, apparently unsure if his was a wise input.

«Perhaps», said Harker.

**xxx**

Phryne and Jack returned to their room. Harker and Hugh had gone back to Melbourne and there was little else left for them to do than get ready for dinner and keep an eye on Clara and Samuel over the course of the evening.

But broadly discussing the case in a low tone of voice as they walked through the corridors came to a halt, now that they were alone.

They were focused on the investigation, but, at the same time, Phryne and Jack couldn't deny that their personal situation kept nudging them nevertheless, particularly considering that they appeared to be on the brink of something until they had been interrupted in the closet.

Jack walked to the window while Phryne put her handbag and her hat on the armchair. He turned on the radio and rotated to face her, his jaw tense with some nervousness he couldn't shake way even despite his best efforts. Phryne, on her part, was looking at him with that own confidence he liked so much, but she was by no means indifferent to what seemed about to unfold.

«I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don't know what to say», Jack ventured at last, «I would be lying to myself and to you if I said that what brings us together is based on personal grounds only or that it's framed under friendship alone».

He paused for an instant. Until that moment, he had believed he had been as forward as he would dare to be at lunch, but there was no way back now. « I like to think of myself as an honest man and I don't want to lie to either of us, but that same honesty prevents me from taking part in something that is so deeply affected by our different if not opposite perspectives on these matters and I apologise for having given in to weakness this morning. I'm not asking you to change yours, I never have nor I will never do so because I...I have you in the highest esteem and I want nothing else for you but happiness and any arrangement that puts you at odds with your wishes would never be able to provide you with it. I acknowledge that this situation may cause you some pain and I'm deeply sorry for it, because, as I mentioned before and I believe you would acknowledge as well, many are the reasons that contributed to our connection, but I hope that with time it will not be as pronounced and you will carry on with your life as assuredly as you have in light of the hardships and challenges that have come up in your path.

» Despite being aware of the strangeness of the situation, I hope you may at least consider staying on with the investigation until the culprits are found and from that moment on I would not ask anything else of you», he concluded, drawing his eyes down.

Jack was nearly breathless when he finished talking. That speech had pained him deeply, but at the same time he felt that it had been the correct thing to do. Hadn't she once told him how he always did the honourable thing? Well this was one of those occasions, he wanted to convince himself.

Phryne hadn't even attempted to say a word and yet she felt breathless as well. They had danced around their mutual feelings before, but he had rarely been this clear and she had the feeling he had skirted around actually saying 'I love you', something she couldn't fault him for because she had been doing the same. Even if that was what he felt, and after hearing him speak as he had, Phryne had very little doubts that it was, saying it out loud would entail consequences they could barely fathom.

«For all that you mention about my wishes and volition, have you ever even entertained the idea that I might be willing to deepen our current relationship, Jack? », Phryne said. «I confess that I may have strung you along in the beginning because I liked the challenge and your position with the Police could be an advantage to my own detective work, but I would never jeopardise our friendship now. It has become too important for me to risk it like that. Our light banter and flirtation has moved beyond being a harmless play and I think we are both aware of it, have been aware of it for long or we wouldn't have had some of the exchanges at my hallway that we did, for instance», Phryne took a deep breath. «Do you think so little of yourself that you believe I could never consider you in such terms? », she continued, her voice softening for a moment.

» I never hid that I live for the 'now' and that the future presents itself as an opportunity instead if a daunting challenge and I'd say you feel the same to a certain degree at least», she continued. « I don't think you divorced Rosie just because that was what the situation came to. You want to move on with your life as well too. How many couples stay married for decades even if they haven't lived in the same house for years and have rarely seen each other since? I know it's strange to bring your former wife into this conversation, but I think it's quite telling. »

Jack was still by the window, processing what Phryne had said. He hadn't been oblivious to how she treated him, but she was someone who seduced even when she didn't wish to, not that he was brushing it off and attributing it to her natural charm or playing the naïf role, out of touch with the ways of the world. He had truly appreciated every insight he had agreed with, he had meant every compliment that he had paid, he had genuinely laughed when he thought her jokes were funny, he had known what he was doing every single time he had thrown another log into the fire of their banter, but he didn't want to be another of her conquests, he couldn't be just another of her conquests and that didn't stem from some sort of possessive wish. She was her own person, people were people on their own right, bound by love or not, but he was his own person too. They seemed to be walking around in circles, a maddening dance which outcome was either make or break, there was no in-between. The strength of their feelings was their blessing and their curse.

«Considering how it felt back then when I thought you had died», Jack said eventually, leaving his safe spot by the window even if it was still hard for him to recall that moment, « I guess that any other person would have jumped at the chance now that it was no longer as irreversible as it had once seemed. Part of me would like to be that person who doesn't look back and goes forward in a heartbeat, but I'm not. I have tried, but I'm not sure my sense of adventure goes that far and I won't ask you to wait and see if I can achieve that point». And just like that, Jack found himself unwillingly weaving another circle around them.

(He also wanted to kiss her, but the objections that had prevented it so far were even more prevalent than they had ever been.)

Phryne took a step ahead as well.

The rumble of the radio filled the silence they didn't exactly know how to. That damn classical music that was supposed to conceal their conversations but that had been scoring them to more effect that what they would wish it to.

«I appreciate the sentiment, but I am willing to wait. For the time being, at least», she wondered if saying so wouldn't be contradictory to what she had tried to convey first, but Phryne thought it would be best to be frank. «You know I don't give away my time lightly and I can assure you that I mean what I am saying. I as confused as you are, Jack, did you know that? », Phryne said, a little exasperated. « After René, I had set myself to keep things as fun as casual as possible and that arrangement had been working wonderfully until I couldn't deny anymore that a romantic yearning was starting to muddle things for us. »

Jack swallowed dryly. It was the first time that 'romance' had been so clearly spelt between them.

«I don't know what to do», he acknowledged, laying his heart even barer. He had rarely been this upfront about what troubled him, including with her.

«I don't know either, so we can agree on that at least», Phryne said, a smile taking over her face.

Jack smiled back. It was difficult not to.

That conversation could hardly be seen as a development but Jack conceded that it was somewhat comforting to know that despite their differences, they stood in that particular kind of common ground together.

They could hear the bustle of people going downstairs to dinner coming from the corridor. As long as they were at the Elvsworth they would always feel pressured.

«Do you think they'll observe some sort of mourning?», Phryne asked, turning to the practical question of what to wear, which, no matter the circumstances, wouldn't be a problem because Dot had packed a significant array of evening clothes, fit for nearly all situations.

«Would you like me to check? », asked Jack. For men it wouldn't be a problem. The Elvsworth was not the kind of place that would forego dinner jackets unless there had been a global cataclysm and even then one would have to be carefully considered as such.

«If you'd be so kind. I would detest committing a fashion faux-pas, even in light of the recent events. »

«I'll change then», Jack said, walking past her to get this black tie suit from the wardrobe.

They had both been quite aware of how close they had just stood, but, as strange as it might seem, neither of them felt as uncomfortable as they would have before their conversation.

**xxx**

Jack's report had yielded that even if it seemed that there had been an effort to avoid bright colours, everyone was as glamorously attired as expected, so Phryne was wearing a floral devoré velvet dress that seemed black but when the light hit it in a particular fashion reveled itself to be deep emerald. Sleeveless, it had a cowl neck, dropped waist and a dip neckline in the back which highlighted her flawless posture. Tear-drop shaped onyx earrings with a diamond clasp adorned her ears and a platinum bracelet with matching stones balanced around her wrist.

They walked into the dining room with loosely linked arms, fully keen on being Fern and Archibald Jones to the best of their abilities. The investigation would obviously look closer at Clara and Samuel, but they would keep their eyes and ears open to the other people around them. Jack had relayed Yates' trip to Melbourne to Harker and Hugh was in charge of finding what 'errands' he had had to tend to in the city on the verge of such an important event at the club over which he was currently presiding.

When they arrived, Andrew Taylor was the only one of their closer acquaintances present. He was sitting at a table in the corner, observing the room as he ate 'Saumon à Lucullus', the round slices of salmon larded with truffles as if they were marble on his plate. If he had just begun his meal, they would have suggested joining him, but they would only greet him now as the maître showed them to their table.

«Good evening, Dr. Taylor», Jack said.

«Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Jones», he replied, putting the napkin on the table to rise to his feet.

«Oh, please, we don't mean to disturb you. We were wondering about Mr. Yates state. He was quite upset this afternoon with the news», Phryne said.

«He has been resting, so I haven't seen much of him yet, but he left me word that he would come down for dinner. Hiding will not help to catch the murderer. »

«That's a lovely sentiment in light of such a dreadful situation, especially considering that it seems that Dr Maxwell may have been murdered in plain sight, but no one could come to his aid», Phryne said, «People were quite shocked when the Police came. But for their presence, no one knew a thing. »

«Yes, I believe so, from what I heard», Taylor replied. «I was checking some last-minute details regarding the auction and I wasn't in the premises when Dr Maxwell was found. »

«We better not keep you from your meal any further», Jack said, «it would be a pity to let such exquisite food go cold. I'm sure we'll meet at the bar afterwards. »

«Indeed, Mr. Jones. »

Phryne and Jack were already mid-dinner when Clara and Samuel arrived. Miss Clayton and Mr. Bailey looked appropriately somber, but couldn't avoid looking like the 'couple of the hour' as they always did. She was wearing a very dark blue silk chiffon dress over an under-dress in the same colour, which had a lower neckline revealing her shoulders and collarbone, and a little capelet falling down to her waist. A diamond-studded geometrical buckle at her stomach fastened a slim velvet belt and a matching clip decorated her hair. It picked up the tone of her silver silk shoes and of the little rhinestones around the base of the tubular celluloid and paste black dance bag with a tassel that dangled from her wrist. Samuel still limped a bit in his impeccably polished dress shoes and had complemented his well cut dinner suit with round onyx cufflinks set in what was probably platinum.

They greeted the Joneses with polite nods and sat at their usual table. They appeared a bit shy at first, but soon were talking to each other as if they were alone in the room and yet conscious enough of their surroundings to not dare holding hands for more than a subtle brush.

Olympia and Wendell Yates came into the dining room at the same time as Phryne and Jack's dessert, looking solemn and dignified as if they were the monarchs whose nation had been struck by an unspeakable tragedy. Composed in his dark clothes, few people would imagine how upset he had been in the afternoon and Olympia looked every inch of the part of the stoic wife, clad in a dark silver metallic floral-pattern brocade bias cut dress with matching lace trim. A scoop neckline showcased the elegant necklace in a garland design with pearls set in the middle of each section of diamond-encrusted leaves as well as in the centre of the pendant delicately falling from it.

«I guess we will only reconvene in the bar», Jack said, considering their table arrangements.

«Maybe it will be better than way, who knows if Rowland's cocktails will loosen some tongues», Phryne said, taking a forkful of her slice of Pavlova garnished with pomegranate (which resembled blood in the snow, making for a somewhat eerie coincidence no one had overseen and corrected in time after the latest events).

Jack looked at her with a slight smile. «Not too much though or I'm not sure any judge would take those testaments into actual account», he said, always the by-the-book policeman nevertheless.

Yet, unfortunately, nothing of the sort happened. Phryne, Jack, Clara, Samuel, Olympia, Yates, and Taylor sat at the same table by the corner of the bar, but talking happened mainly around Maxwell. Those who knew him recalled fond memories and stories, Miss Clayton and Mr. Bailey kept in their places, his arm draped over the back of her chair so his fingers brushed her shoulder from now and then, and Archie and Fern intervened when they saw fit given their very short acquaintance with the man.

Whether in in deference to the circumstances or the fact that a single piano player definitely didn't infuse the room with the same energy as a band, everyone went upstairs earlier, Phryne and Jack included, having found nothing more than disappointment.

**xxx**

«Are you reading Hugh's letter? », Phryne asked from her bed, putting her book down and turning to him, her head resting on her hand.

«Yes. I know he summarised it this afternoon, but I wanted to read it nevertheless», Jack replied, raising his eyes from the two sheets of paper to her.

«Is there anything unheard of? »

«P.S: I have been taking care of Gregor as settled. He is well health-wise, but I think he misses you, sir», Jack read. «It's always heart-warming to know you are missed», he said, no longer quoting Collins' words.

«We had a dog when we moved to England, a sort of Beagle named Ferdinand and I know how they tug our heartstrings, so I don't want to take it from Gregor, but you are missed, Jack. Rather often, I might say», she said, returning to her book.

«I am pleased to know that», Jack said, honestly first, «I was afraid you might be tired of me after these days in such close quarters. »

« I thought it might happen too, but I found it surprisingly manageable», Phryne replied, falsely nonchalant.

After the uneventful evening at the bar they had gone to their room but because they didn't feel tired enough to sleep, they had changed into their night clothes and settled in bed to read.

Phryne was laying completely on her back but for her head, propped up on two pillows in a position that Jack predicted as somewhat uncomfortable, but she kept reading her copy of Marjorie Bowen's  _Mistress Nell Gwyn,_ completely at ease. She held her book at eye level over her head, the sleeves of today's grey-ish blue pajamas puddling around her elbows.

Jack was seated with his back against the headboard of his bed. He had read Hugh's letter attentively, but he had noticed that Phryne had taken a couple of surreptitious looks at him, something he had also done when she seemed particularly entranced by the tales of the woman who went from poor to famous and witty actress to King Charles II mistress. Her eyes moved alongside the lines, widening in surprise or narrowing in recognition of a fellow lady who had no trouble in getting things done when needed or wished.

He put Hugh's letter aside and picked his copy of  _The Forsyte Saga_. He had rarely hated a character as he did with Soames, but he appreciated the complexity Galsworthy had given him and he admired Jo's courage to be true to himself and choose his own path.

Jack had been enjoying the book a great deal, yet it was complicated to ignore that there was more to it now. The pages he was reading were immersing him in the challenges faced by Irene and Jo and about whether to pursue the change in their feelings, now that they had gone from an acquaintance sparked by his role as manager of her finances to friendship to having to deal with Soames' accusation of them having an affair that was on the brink of actually coming true. Despite the different circumstances, it was difficult not to recognise some commonalities with his and Phryne's situation. But while theirs was as unresolved as it could be, Irene and Jo's was settled and even if he wanted to figure out how, he sensed it was late and a glimpse at the travel clock on the nightstand confirmed his suspicion.

He put the rectangular leather marker between the pages, placed the book on the side table and looked at Phryne. She had her back turned to him, but the soft cadence of her breathing, moving her torso up and down, lead him to believe she had fallen asleep meanwhile.

He got up and walked to the other side of the bed. Phryne's book was closed beside her, but the fingertips of her right hand were in the middle of the sheets, as if she had decided to just rest her eyes for a while but meant to resume reading after a brief pause.  _I don't mean to shock the maids with D. H. Lawrence, right away. This makes for a pleasant middle-ground, don't you think?_ , she had replied when she had teased her about a rather tame reading choice, even considering the particular nature of Gwyn and the King's relationship.

As Jack looked at her, a warm feeling started spreading across his chest.  _A man who claims to have no passions in spite of a heart that runs as deep as the Pacific Ocean_ , she had told him once. He had replied with a request for another drink, but the truth was that she had helped to bring that same heart back to life, that she filled that same heart in a way he had never thought possible again, that that same heart was totally devoted to her.

He slid the book from under her fingers and dog-eared the page. It wasn't his usual practice, but it was Phryne's, it seemed, considering the folds in many of the previous corners. Jack wondered if he should take one of the pillows, given the strange way her neck had assumed, but he didn't mean to wake her. Yet, because a Miss Fisher with a sore neck was the last thing they needed, he tenderly pulled the first pillow away, putting it on the armchair next to the bed.

When he was finished with that action, Phryne moved and he worried he had indeed awaken her, but she turned to the other side and kept sleeping peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I'm so sorry for having taken so long to update this, but between being busy and having to take 'Once Upon a Time in Melbourne' out of my system it took a bit more than what I had expected. 
> 
> I can't thank you enough for your wonderful and heartwarming reception of this story. It's a joy to know some of you have been following it from the beginning as it is to get recent comments by some of you who have just found it.
> 
> I hope you are still enjoying it in terms of the case and in terms of the characters dynamics.
> 
> Other notes: I actually saw that golf club watch for sale and laughed alone when I walked by that window display. Of course I had to include it because how à propos it is, particularly considering that I think a lot about this story as I go with my life.
> 
> According to wikipedia, the Eastern Bristlebird (Dasyornis brachypterus) was included in the 2007 advisory list of threatened vertebrate fauna in Victoria, and listed as endangered. Even if I tried to research to the best of my abilities, I'm not exactly sure about how these matters would be handled in the 1920s, both about endangered species and building restrictions, but I hope it makes some sort of sense nevertheless.
> 
> The recipe is taken from our old friend Escoffier's book as it has happened in the previous chapters.
> 
> Both The Forsyte Saga and Mistress Gywnn are books that actually exist and therefore do not belong to me.
> 
> Please forgive any mistake that may still prevail despite all the research done. If they exist, I hope they don't hinder your enjoyment of the story.
> 
> I hope you enjoy what's coming next, particularly because the next post will be posted right away.
> 
> I always love to hear from you, so feel free to say something if you feel like it. :)


	17. Chapter 17

«Jack, Jack».

He opened his eyes, prodded not so much by her low tone of voice but more by her gentle grip on his shoulder.

«Phryne», he said, «Is something wrong?», he asked, somewhat alarmed after seeing that she was fully dressed in black day clothes, topped by a long coat with a dark green trim, and a beret he recognised, but not even the faint rosy light of a far away sunrise was coming in through the gap in the curtains.

«It isn't. I just think we should check the lake now that no one will disturb us», she replied, crossing her arms, still sitting on the edge of his bed.

«What time is this? », Jack asked, still groggy from sleep, pulling away the strands of unruly hair that fell on his forehead.

«3.42 in the morning», she informed him, as if this was the normal schedule for such investigative activities and he was late for them already. «And if I were you, unless you want to go in your nightgown and pajamas, as becoming as they are, I'd change quickly because after the lake we'll take a little detour to Melbourne.»

«Melbourne? », Jack repeated, sitting on the bed now. «First question: Why? Second question: How? Or maybe it's the other way around. It's difficult to know with you sometimes. »

«Come on, Jack. I know that we'll get the autopsy report soon, but I think we should take a look at some things ourselves, since we only managed to see the body from afar. I do not doubt the Commissioner or any other policeman who was closer to the scene or even Dr Philips' competence, but it's not the same. I'm sure you know what I mean», Phryne said with a smile.

«There are moments were I almost wish I didn't. »

**xxx**

«I promise I'll put it back», Phryne said when Jack's eyes darted to the key she used to open the service door that lead to the golf course and through which she had gotten to the lake in the previous afternoon.

«Do you think Yates will not notice that it's missing? », asked Jack, tying his shoelaces. In order to not wake anyone with their steps, they had walked barefoot across the hallways.

«There was a significant number of keys in that cabinet and I put an overlapping one in its place, just in case», Phryne said, fastening the right buckle of her black shoes as well.

«When did you have the chance? », he asked, puzzled, as they walked, lit by nothing more than the nearly full moon.

«I was very discreet. I knew you would raise some objections, but it would be either that or picking the locks», Phryne replied, deliberately pronouncing the last three words very slowly.

Jack did his best to contain a smile, despite the fact that he did object to such approach. It was true that everyone was pressured to get results and was willing to thread the fine line between procedure and 'more inventive practices', but he didn't want to put anyone at risk, neither him, Phryne, Hugh, or Harker, and see the investigation go up in smoke in front of a judge because they hadn't followed procedure and broken the law.

They walked straight ahead from the building to near the fence and made their way under the trees that lined it, hoping that their shadow would give them some cover. There were no lights on at the clubhouse, but they doubted there wasn't some kind of surveillance, particularly if taking the latest circumstances into account.

The lake was completely undisturbed and the view could be considered quite breathtaking. Moonlight seemed to pour onto the dark water, lending it such brightness it even seemed white sometimes, and also trickled down the treetops like pearls dropping from fingers, coating the hills and valleys of the fairways as well.

Everything was silent but for the sound of their breathing and their steps on the grass; there wasn't even a slight breeze shaking the leaves above their heads.

«Do you expect something in particular? », he asked before they got themselves too involved by the landscape around them.

«Not exactly, but as with the body, I thought it would be pertinent for us to see the crime scene with our own eyes, don't you agree? »

«It can't hurt», said Jack, turning on the torch he took out of a pocket of his trench-coat when they got to their destination.

It wasn't difficult for them to locate the exact spot where Maxwell's body had been found. The edges of the lake were perfectly manicured, the only exception being a specific patch where mud was more prevalent than turf and the marks of the deceased's shoe tips were still dug in the ground.

«I had the impression this bit had been messed with and I see I wasn't wrong», Phryne said, crouching near the area.

«If he drowned, as we believe, it's highly likely he would have fought back. I'd say it would have disturbed the dirt in a sort of zigzag pattern, at least around where his torso where, in an attempt to escape the grip of whoever was holding his head down, but it seems like someone dug through it instead, as if looking for something», postulated Jack, crouching too.

«It does seem kind of sloppy near the water. Maybe the murderer dropped something and was trying to retrieve it», said Phryne, «How lucky would we have to be if Turner had interrupted their search before they could finish it? »

«Very, very lucky. »

«Let's test our chances then», Phryne said, quickly putting her handbag on the floor, rolling up her sleeves and laying diagonally on the grass so she could dip her arms in the water up to her elbows without disarranging the murder scene.

Jack took off his trench, folded it and put it over the handle of the torch, trying to cover some of the light that came from it. He then proceeded to remove his jacket and put it on top of the other garment.

Phryne whistled lowly.

«Mr. Jones… What are you doing? I believe stripping at the golf course is frowned upon around these parts, if not full on forbidden», she said, admiring that he looked rather splendid in his waistcoat and shirt nevertheless.

«What about trying to double our chances? », said Jack, putting his cuff-links in his wallet for safe-keeping. «Are you familiar with the proper conduct in such situations? », he continued, storing his watch in the front pocket of his trousers and starting to roll up the sleeves of his white shirt.

«I guess it depends on whom you ask. I believe some people might be thrilled if they were actually searching for the killer, but not so much if you find yourself asking said killer… or killers. »

«We better talk less and search more then, don't you think, before someone catches us? It would be a rather awkward situation to explain», Jack said, now laying on the floor in a very similar position to Phryne's, immersing his hands and forearms in the dark pool.

**xxx**

«Even the lake is thoroughly cleaned and ordained here. What a bore», Phryne said, after about 10 minutes of splashing about the margins of the lake.

«Not so fast», said Jack a couple of seconds after, raising his left hand from the water with something silver-y gleaming between his thumb and his index finger.

He got to his knees and so did Phryne, the excitement of the discovery keeping away the thought of how dirt stains on their clothes might betray them if caught.

«I'm afraid a piece is missing, but I'd say it looks awfully like 2 thirds of a collar bar», he said, reaching for the torch and pointing it at the piece composed by the bar itself and one ball end, the lack of the other revealing a spike-like screw.

«Curiously, the usual wearer of such accessory that first comes to mind wasn't wearing his this afternoon, even if his shirt collar had the holes in for that», Phryne said, «I doubt such dapper gentleman would be out and about like that if not for unforeseeable circumstances».

«And what could be more unforeseeable than dropping your collar pin at a murder scene? », he said, putting it in an envelope he took from his coat and rising to his feet.

«Next time, he should make sure it is screwed on tightly», Phryne said, picking up her handbag and accepting Jack's hand to get up from the floor. «What time is it? », she asked all of a sudden, as reminded of an important errand she had forgotten to run.

«4.17 in the morning», Jack replied, fastening the watch around his wrist.

«We must go now or we'll hardly be back before the maids start their first tasks», she said, motioning him to come after her up the hill, «or cleaning starts at the morgue. »

«And how do you plan to make it to Melbourne given that we do not currently have a motorcar at our disposal?», he said, rolling down his sleeves as he talked and walked, putting the cuff-links back having to be reserved for a more quiet occasion.

«You know I have my res… wait there», Phryne said in a low tone of voice, raising her hand to halt his march and not taking a step further herself.

He did as told and looked towards the clubhouse, wondering they might have been found by some night guard, but there weren't any new lights on and no one appeared demanding explanations, which made him feel more nervous.

Ahead of them, Jack made out the contour of a dark car beyond the wooden fence, a sight that made the hair in the back of his neck stand up and lead him to reach towards his gun, placed between the waistline of his trousers and the small of his back.

But Phryne aimed the light of her torch lower and closer than that, to a space where the trees weren't so clumped together and the grass seemed particularly flattened.

«Given these marks», she said in a rather blasé fashion, «and two pairs of suspiciously muddy shoes, I reckon things aren't looking well to Miss Clayton and Mr. Bailey. Could they still get married in prison? They may have killed Maxwell, but they do seem to love each other. »

«I'm afraid their grand love story would have to stay eternally on hold, with the gallows being the probable outcome if that's the case», Jack said, slightly puzzled by the fact that she seemed to not have even acknowledged the possible threat some feet away or addressed the matter. «The car…», he started saying.

«Good evening», a familiar voice said from inside the vehicle, Cec's face appearing at the window, moonlight revealing a broad smile bending his lips.

Jack's shoulders relaxed and he let his arms fall alongside his body, now that he understood the arrangements she had made.

«Good morning, gentlemen», Phryne said with a smile, «I see Hugh successfully delivered my message».

Jack didn't even bother muttering any word of scold or displeasure, preferring to shoot her a fairly telling look instead.

«Did you want me to call them on the telephone? Suppose the operator was listening in?», Phryne quickly replied, with a knowing shrug. « I'm sorry for dragging you out of bed at this time of night but your help will be as valuable as always», she greeted before carefully walking to the fence so she wouldn't step where Clara and Samuel appeared to have done so.

«I rather be up at this time but wearing my own clothes, than coming by at 5.00pm and have to wear that wretched chauffeur's uniform», said Bert from the passenger's seat, leaning forward enough so he could be seen and heard by Phryne and Jack, who had gotten near meanwhile.

«I'm glad to know you found a silver lining, Bert», she said, before agilely climbing the boards of the fence. A silent Jack followed in tow, still trying to wrap his head around how he would be breaking into the morgue within the next half an hour.

«Put your foot down on that pedal, Cec, and don't mind the Inspector. He's not on duty now», Phryne said after they had gotten settled, looking at Jack with a mischievous grin, «Besides, like Cinderella, we too have a curfew and if we don't make it, we'll break the spell and we can't afford that.»

**xxx**

Jack wasn't comfortable about the break-in but, truth be told, that was not the first time they were visiting the morgue after hours.

 _Couldn't they have asked Harker to leave word to the constable tending to the night desk that they would come by?,_  he thought as Phryne picked the lock of the back door, chastising himself for not having put in that request to the Commissioner.

«They should update the security details of this place», Phryne said, opening the door and letting herself in.

«But if they did, you would have to come by between 9 to 5 and being predictable is not one of your favourite things, Miss Fisher», Jack said with a mixture of true acknowledgement and irony permeating his voice.

«Where's the fun in that? », she replied, shooting him a look over her shoulder.

They had entered the end of a beige-grain corridor with brown doors on both sides. Across from where they stood, Phryne and Jack could see the dim light coming through the frosted window of the door that separated the little reception area from the rest.

Jack left the door ajar after him and stopped walking and talking, as Phryne had just done, both of them focusing on the sounds coming from the house now.

The morgue was located in a Victorian building that creaked and screeched as if settling for the night. As they walked along the hallway, they were jolted by every noise at first, but once they had been able to discern them and figure out their origin, it was easier to focus on the task at hand and only be derailed by anything that might denounce that the night constable was doing his rounds.

Slowly, they checked closets and offices until they found Maxwell's body laying on the autopsy table of Room 1.

Weary that too much light might draw attention, both from the outside and from the inside, instead of turning on the lamp on the ceiling, Jack chose the torch, hoping it still had power enough for that excursion.

«Shall we?», he said in a low tone of voice, putting it down on a side table and pulling away the sheet from the deceased's face, revealing an ashen complexion and a shadow of that proud smile prevailing on Maxwell's face.

Phryne grabbed the torch immediately and pointed the beam of light towards the left side of the neck.

«Even from afar, I noticed a smidge on his collar that I thought might be mud, but I'd say it's probably blood instead and that it may have come out from this wound», she said, her gloved left index finger aiming at a vertical gash about 2 inches long.

«It seems like someone deliberately lacerated his skin», said Jack, «look at the irregular edges».

«Maxwell was a big man. Wounding him would probably make the task of drowning him much easier, even if there were two murderers. »

«They may have thought that stabbing him in the neck would be enough to let him bleed out in the middle of the golf course or it didn't happen as fast as they expected and had to resort to any other method at hand. »

«Let's see what Dr. Philips says». Phryne opened the cardboard folder on top of another side table.

Jack had reminded her in the car that the coroner was a thorough man who possessed an impeccable attention to detail that was as sharp and useful in the course of his job as well as in keeping track of his things. «Don't worry», she had said, but he did worry because in that moment she had picked up the file and was walking around the room reading the conclusions it contained, the torch on the other hand lighting the typed pages.

«"The amount of blood present indicates the deceased was alive when the injury was inflicted"… "The puncture wound missed the external jugular vein by a 1/8 of an inch and its small but round incision seems to have been made by something with a sharp tip but with a thin cylindrical-like shape". Does this remind you of something, Jack? »

«Light», he said, ducking so he would be concealed by the autopsy table, Phryne quickly following suit and joining him after turning off the torch she was holding.

Outside, the constable walked along the hallway in a leisurely step and they heard him open and close the door of the previous room. Rationally, they knew his actions didn't take more than a minute, but the wait felt much longer than that.

Suddenly, Jack quickly sprung to his feet, covered Maxwell's face with the sheet again, grabbed his now unlit torch and resumed the crouching position by the table, right before the policeman opened the door. When he did so, he turned on the ceiling lamp and took a quick glance inside. Phryne and Jack stopped breathing until he gave the room back to darkness and kept still and breathless for a couple of seconds more, up to the moment when they heard him move to the next room. As quiet as statues, they mapped his progress down the corridor and then back to the reception, allowing themselves to take a deep breath and relax their muscles at last.

«Where were we? », Phryne said, whilst remaining seated on the floor, as if this intermission had never happened.

«Let me guess, a collar bar might have been responsible for the tear on Maxwell's neck? », said Jack, looking at her face, crossed by the street illumination entering through the horizontal gaps in blinds.

«"The wound wouldn't be immediately fatal, but it could be painful, particularly as the instrument was pulled down through the skin"», Phryne resumed reading after turning the torch back on, «"as indicated by the rough descending edges of the injury". Very well, Jack. I knew that bringing you along would be more useful than leaving you to your sweet dreams», she said with a poorly-concealed smirk.

«It may surprise you, but this isn't my first investigation, you know? », he replied, good-humouredly.

«It isn't? I would have never believe it if you hadn't told me. »

In that moment, it wasn't nearly a quarter to 5 in the morning, neither were they speaking to each other sitting on the floor of the morgue hiding behind the autopsy table on which laid the man whose murder they had been investigating. Phryne and Jack were just two people who happened to find themselves drawn to each other with those particular circumstances as a quaint backdrop.

Jack got up and stretched out his hand out of chivalry to help her to her feet.

«Blah, blah, drowning. Obviously, this isn't Dr. Philips first time crime either», she said, taking it.

Phryne returned the report to the table top where she had found it, ceremoniously arranging it to resemble its original state while deliberately looking at Jack, who was next to her now.

He took a look at the large brown paper bag, opened it, and started to take out pieces of Maxwell's clothing.

She picked up each garment, unfolded it, and analysed it. The jacket still had bits of mud attached, but some of the smaller ones fell from the fabric, now that it was dry and the shirt was no longer white, the water having turned it yellowish instead, but it was easy to discern which stain was blood: a smear of a burgundy colour so deep it was nearly black in certain spots. The trousers weren't as dirty but from the knees and emanated a particular oriental amber smell from the back of the legs and the shoes were as polished as if ready to be worn to the club.

«No tears on the clothes, no defensive wounds. An unexpected attack; he might have known the murderer. »

«Like Siddall, Branson, and Logan, I'd dare say. »

«Who knew Clara and Samuel.»

«For instance, among all the members for the Elvsworth», Jack said, dampening Phryne's visible enthusiasm with the conclusions reached during that day.

« Come on, Jack. How many people would have a personal interest in these deaths? Who was found with muddy shoes and who has lost part of a fashion accessory at the murder scene? Why haven't been Miss Clayton and Mr. Bailey been called into questioning yet? I've seen it happen for less», Phryne said, sulking a little and crossing her arms.

«If that was the case, it only happened because the evidence while fewer were more solid than this string of 'if's we are dealing with in these circumstances. At least in my station», Jack said, leaving implied that he didn't put it past Hall, Sanderson, and all the policemen they were in cahoots with. «Besides, doing so at this stage would blow our cover, something we can't afford at the moment, I'm afraid, since we are not in possession of undeniable evidence and motive. Are you that impatient? I thought you would enjoy the charade, Miss Fisher», Jack said, looking squarely at her.

«I do», she replied, continuing to pretend to sulk, «and I believe you do too. But for the murders that is», Phryne continued after a small pause, uncrossing her arms.

**xxx**

Jack and Phryne had managed to get back in time to enjoy a couple of hours of sleep before having to change from their wrinkly and grass-traced nightly attire into something more appropriate for breakfast. She chose a floral georgette long-sleeved dress in red and pink tones and he another dark suit with a white shirt and a tie with a red and golden motif.

The mood in the dining room appeared to be less somber and oppressive than in the night before. People talked as politely as always, but slightly louder again, the efforts to hide smiles and laughs weren't as pronounced and colour had returned to the clothing of most.

Yet, despite the changes in demeanor, the members of the Elvsworth weren't completely at ease. Distributed by the tables set with the finest porcelain and cutlery or choosing from the buffet where impeccably-presented food could be picked up, there was a certain sense of anxiety, fuelled by the expectation of further news from the Police regarding what would be done next. Would they be interviewed, could they go back home, was there any progress in the investigation?

Waiters kept coming into the room with hot golden toasts, coffee, and tea, and going back to the kitchen with trays of dirty dishes, which they carried expertly over their shoulders on one hand only, defying at least two laws of gravity.

«I feel like having another croissant. This orange jam isn't as good as Mr. Brewer's but it's delicious nevertheless. Would you like me to bring something for you? », Phryne asked, putting her folded napkin on the tabletop.

«No, thank you. I have had enough breakfast for today. », Jack replied, arranging the cutlery on the plate in front of him accordingly.

«Well, see you in a minute then», she said, getting up and going to the table were three types of bread, croissants, and brioche were displayed on wicker baskets coated with luxurious squares of quality white cotton and other Viennoiseries were laid on crystal plates.

«Miss Clayton», Phryne said, when Clara joined her, pristinely dressed in a silk chiffon deep teal dress with a darker floral pattern wide bar embroidered above the hem. «Good morning. These  _Pain aux raisins_  look delicious, don't they? »

Clara placed one on her plate, turned to her and said:

«You are Miss Phryne Fisher, aren't you? »

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: At first I had thought I would write just one chapter, but as the story went on I thought it needed a break. I hope updating two chapters in a row kind of makes up for having taken so long to update this. I hope you found it worth the wait.
> 
> First of all, as I said at the time «Death and Hysteria» was aired, I had already thought Phryne and Jack would find parts of a collar bar at the murder scene and I had been particular about mentioning Samuel's to support so. This was just the most sheer coincidence.
> 
> The injury and medical details come from a mixture of internet research and a batch of CSI and other procedurals. I hope I didn't get much wrong.
> 
> The internet tells me that Cec and Bert's taxi is a 1929 Hudson Super Six. It also tells me that its top speed would be around 80mph (128,75km/h). I have located The Elvsworth Club in the grounds of the The Royal Melbourne Golf Club, Australia's oldest extant and continually existing golf club, in order to calculate distances and to have an idea of how it would be. It would probably not to be advisable to drive at such dazzling speed particularly at night, but when the maths are done, they show that the club is about 15 minutes away from the city centre, which is much less than what I was thinking. Given this, even if Cec didn't drive that fast I thought Phryne and Jack's nightly excursion would be feasible and decided to include it in my story. (Because if it weren't, it would be the biggest problem with the whole enterprise, obviously).
> 
> I hope it doesn't sound to pedantic, but I had been sitting on the end of this chapter for a while. The image of Clara saying these words to Phryne by the breakfast buffet had been on my mind for a long time and I had actually thought it would have come to be earlier than this but, as corny as it may sound, the characters and the story sometimes do take over and we can only try to keep up. 
> 
> The thought of a buffet breakfast may seem weird, but if it happened in the great English country houses at the time, I think it might also happen at the Elvsworth. Given that I have some trouble finding information about how things would happen at clubs like this, I've taken some details from luxurious environments and weaved them into the workings of this fictional one. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy what's coming up next.


	18. Chapter 18

In a rather natural manner, she would say, Phryne gently dropped the croissant onto her plate, even if her mind wandered to the few instances that might have denounced her and, by extension, Jack.

«I have been told we look quite alike, but I've never had the pleasure of meeting her, so I can hardly corroborate the justice of that assessment», Phryne said, quite coolly despite some doubts about whether this had been the right thing to do, but being in the middle of the dining room had its limits, for her included.

«There's no need to lie. I know you», Clara said, lowering her voice, «but we should perhaps take this somewhere else. I wouldn't want to compromise either of us. »

«I will just put this on the table», Phryne said, meaning the plate, « It would be rather odd to carry it around. »

«There's a certain need for haste to this conversation. I would rather have it right away», Clara continued, leaving her own plate on the bread table.

«What about Mr Bailey? Aren't you waiting for him? I noticed you had breakfast together every day since we have been here. »

Phryne was aware of the flimsiness of her argument, but she could also see Jack's back over Clara's shoulder, completely oblivious they had met.

«Not today. There's his ankle, which isn't fully healed yet and Sam can't risk a shoddy recovery or his shot at a professional golf career may be lost forever. Shall we? », Clara said, slightly raising her hand towards the door.

Judging by his stance, Phryne believed Jack was taking in the view of the golf course, enjoying the fresh air of the morning, fully at ease out in the verandah and without any reason to turn around and look for her at least for the moment.

«I wouldn't worry about it much, if I were him», Phryne said, walking ahead after having put the plate down. Clara wouldn't attack her in the middle of the room and with her gun kept in her handbag, left at the same table at which Jack sat, the best she could do was choosing a place that might give her some advantage.

«No, not the West golf course, if you don't mind. We won't be disturbed at the East one at this hour of the day», Clara said, when Phryne took the path that would lead to the fairway overseen by the restaurant verandah.

«As you wish. We'll be facing the sun though», Phryne said. She was obviously curious to know how Clara had discovered her identity and the theme of their conversation, but she was also regretting not having attached a knife sheath to her garter that morning.

«That's why hats have brims, isn't it? », Clara said. They were both wearing theirs anyway.

«What gave me away? », Phryne asked when they were outside. She wouldn't grant Clara the acknowledgement of her conclusions and there was no need to hide between pleasantries anymore.

«Your face. It turns out our paths had already crossed, Miss Fisher», she replied in a neutral way, looking at her but still walking.

«Did you know me since the beginning then? »

If it were the case, Phryne would have to commend her because she had never shown the smallest bit of evidence that she knew Fern Jones was a farce.

«No. Your face seemed familiar somehow when Mr. Yates introduced you, but I couldn't place it. Between work and social functions, I come across so many people it's difficult to remember them all, I'm afraid. »

«I knew you by name only, I believe». Phryne had looked at pictures of her, of course, whilst preparing for the undercover assignment, but didn't truly recall having ever actually seen her.

« I wouldn't be surprised if that's the case. I briefly replaced Arabella Northam in one donors meeting at The Royal Melbourne Philharmonic. She's my cousin twice removed, but we are so close in age and bond, we think of each other more like sisters. Arabella was on a cruise but she wanted to take part in the presentation of the yearly programme nevertheless, so she conceded me something similar to power of attorney for that particular meeting eight months ago. »

«But it didn't end up taking place in the planned occasion», Phryne said, believing she had found a hole in Clara's scenario.

«You mean Mrs Pearson's unfortunate situation with the tea cakes? Because that's exactly what prevented our formal introduction», Clara said, in a tone that seemed to lead on that she was glad to crush Phryne's expectations. «I had just walked into the small room where people were congregated before the meeting at the Town Hall when it was announced it had been cancelled. People left quite quickly and I had apparently forgotten the whole thing», Clara said with a small laugh.

Phryne didn't say anything, but didn't put much effort into hiding that she had been rather annoyed by it.

«Until I got hold of the most troubling rumours last night, that is. It was then as if everything had fallen into place all of a sudden: I remembered where I knew you from and, consequently, who you are», Clara continued without a single trace of amusement now. «Who hired you? »

«As you can understand, I will not divulge such information», Phryne said in a steely tone.

«You can help me with the Police nevertheless though, I'm sure. »

«What kind of person do you think I am, Miss Clayton? 'Help with the Police'? In occasion, I help the police not 'with it'. And you are going to need a lawyer, a very good one, I would say, not backstage machinations. I know what you did», Phryne said, turning to Clara after having stopped walking.

«You do? », Clara said, shocked but not ashamed. «Then I can't see why you think I would need a lawyer, unless you are meaning some sort of moral police is in charge of the investigation», she continued, certainty replacing surprise.

«You consider murdering one, if not three people, a moral question only? Miss Clayton, you are a lot more cold-blooded than what I would have given you credit for. A tremendous actress too, I might add. »

«I'm sorry, but what do you think I did, Miss Fisher? », asked Clara, her haughtiness giving way to confusion and then to something close to offense.

«Are you going to deny that you were seen near the lake during the afternoon of Dr Maxwell's death? I wouldn't, if I were you. Not only there are witnesses, but there are also footprints, muddy shoes, and, more important than that, Mr Bailey's collar bar, well, two parts of it, at the site», Phryne said, steadily and defiantly. Jack would probably have objected to her revelation of so much to one of the main suspects, but she couldn't deny she wanted to witness Clara's reaction first hand and see what to do next from that moment on.

«We didn't kill Maxwell», she replied, her brown eyes still enlarged with bewilderment, « Nor any of those men. Sam lost his collar bar indeed but it wasn't at the lake. In fact, the pieces of evidence you say you have as proof of our guilt are exactly why I need your help, Miss Fisher», Clara stopped talking for an instant, not so collected as before. She wasn't on the brink of tears or of any sort of meltdown, but there was a mix of harshness and fear in her voice and some tension was hardening her shoulders and straightening her back even more than what her graceful posture usually lead her to. «We have an alibi», she said eventually, looking at Phryne with her head held high but in a way that denounced that she hadn't expected to reveal it so soon.

«Share it with the Police then and your problems will lessen significantly, I would say», Phryne replied with a light shrug, although she had gathered from Clara's reluctance that the context wasn't that linear.

«I'm not so sure. You see, we were at an inn in Williamstown and the fact that we are not married yet puts a certain complicated spin in this situation, even in this time and age, wouldn't you agree Miss Fisher?», Clara said, looking squarely at Phryne.

«I see», Phryne uttered, caught completely by surprise with the nature of the revelation, but without making any judgment.

«That's where Sam lost his collar bar. He noticed it when we were on our way back, but we couldn't return or we wouldn't have time to get ready for dinner. We were supposed to arrive here, go to our rooms and change, no one could notice in such short period of time. »

«If that's the truth, you have to tell it to the Police, Miss Clayton, before it gets even more difficult to sort everything out», she continued, her tone more professional now.

«I can't, Miss Fisher. The more people know, more likely it is for it to appear in the press. I don't regret what we did and I'm not ashamed, but I can't drag my family into a scandal. Neither can Sam, even if the papers would be gentler with him», she said, knowing Phryne would fully understand what she had meant.

«Despite some of the latest situations that involved the Police, there are still many competent, honourable, discreet people there and I can put you in contact with them», Phryne offered.

«Thank you, but I can't. We are engaged and have been willingly promised to each other for two years but I can feel people's eyes burning our backs when we go upstairs at the same time, imagine if these news become public. Yesterday, I seriously pondered on whether I should keep Sam's bedroom door open when I kept him company while he was putting ice on his ankle, even if it's none of their business, just to keep people from talking about us», Clara said, her voice growing resentful as she spoke. «Miss Fisher, you live your life like you want, without caring what people think and without letting them tell you why, but I know you comprehend my request for secrecy. »

«Where's Mr Bailey? », Phryne asked. Certain sincerity seemed to seep through Clara's words and behaviour, but she wasn't fully convinced yet. Besides, at least for the moment, the evidence they did have pointed to the young couple. Samuel might be paving the way to strengthen their alibi. If wanted, he surely had the money and influence to try it.

«He's genuinely taking care of his ankle», Clara replied, with a small smile. «Perhaps we shouldn't have gone to Williamstown, but it's so difficult to find some time to be truly alone, even at home… it would be much more easy to find here since both our parents are in England for a wedding. We were looking forward to this chance for long and never looked back. »

«Is there anyone who can testify to this? », Phryne asked. Until she had managed to verify if their alibi was true or not, she would not trust Clara completely and couldn't put past her to create that story and appeal to Phryne's take on life and freedom to rope her in in case the situation called for it.

«The innkeeper, obviously, and Daniel Gleason. He's Sam's best friend and owns the car that took us there. We couldn't take ours without drawing attention, so he picked us up by the fence and we dropped him off in Melbourne. Then we collected him on our way back and he drove us to the Elvsworth again.»

Despite Clara's attempt at relaying the information in a concise way, there was an underlying eagerness in her tone that didn't escape Phryne.

«It seems a well-executed plan.»

«Please », Clara continued, «don't let us out of your sight, take me with you while you check what I've just told you, take Sam too, lock us up somewhere, we will do whatever you want». She put her hand on Phryne's forearm, «I swear on my life we didn't kill Dr. Maxwell or Mr. Siddall, Dr. Branson or Mr. Logan, for that matter. Please help us, Miss Fisher. »

«Fern! », Jack called in the distance, taking long strides towards them.

Both women looked at him. Phryne noticed the relief in his voice for having found her, but as soon as his eyes drifted to Clara's hand, she also saw an alarmed expression take over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading this new chapter. I hope you enjoyed it even if it's smaller that most of the latter ones. (What do I know? You may even be more pleased that it is so).
> 
> The Royal Melbourne Philharmonic Choir & Orchestra does exist and dates back to 1853 and it's apparently Australia's oldest continuously existing musical organisation.
> 
> Williamstown exists as well and is a Melbourne suburb across the bay, which became Victoria's major cargo port in the latter part of the 19th century, impulsed by the gold rush and the development of railways, among other factors.
> 
> I hope you enjoy what comes next, now that the circle is starting to close. As usual, feel free to say something if you want. I always love to read your take on this story.


	19. Chapter 19

« I have to tell him at least», Phryne quickly said. «If you want me to verify your story», it was too soon to say 'help you', «my associate also needs to know. Don't worry. He's the most trustworthy. I have put my life in his hands many times and he never let me down».

Clara let her arm fall alongside her body and nodded.

Jack kept walking towards them in fast steps, tense as a violin cord.

«John», Phryne said once he was close enough to hear her voice without her having to shout, « Miss Clayton knows the truth. »

He blinked, as if that gesture would magically summon the truth Clara was familiar with. Given that Phryne had called him 'John' – a name so rarely used he barely remembered it was his sometimes – he gathered that whatever Clara knew wasn't as complete and accurate as the real turn of events.

«This is John Robertson, my friend and associate».

Neither Clara nor Jack said a word, shyly nodding in acknowledgement instead.

«But before we move on, we have to find Mr. Bailey», Phryne said, decidedly, receiving her handbag from Jack. The sooner they could straighten that story out the best.

Phryne quickly briefed Jack on the new developments as they made their way to the clubhouse in a succinct and discreet manner as possible.

Clara, on her part, walked a few steps ahead, her face still closed off as Phryne's words breezed through the air.

Samuel was just about to leave to go have breakfast when Clara knocked on his door, Phryne and Jack standing on each side of her.

«Mr. and Mrs. Jones invited us to a walk outside», she told her fiancé, any further explanation having been prevented by the many guests returning to their rooms after the morning meal.

«It sounds wonderful», he replied, not seeming very surprised. He quickly grabbed his boater hat, closed the door behind him and offered Clara his arm.

Phryne noticed that even if his white shirt was of evident premium quality, there were no round openings in the collar this time.

**xxx**

Miss Clayton and Mr. Bailey hadn't been left by themselves ever since. Phryne and Jack had joined them at the same table as he ate and the four of them got into his motorcar afterwards, Clara's being a coupé that didn't have room for them all.

Jack was on the passenger seat while Phryne and Clara sat on the back. If needed, he could quickly take hold of the wheel, but he truly hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Compliant with the request to show them the path Samuel and his fiancée had taken the day before, they had already stopped by the place near the fence where the roadside was wider than the rest. Given that particular feature and the fact that the vegetation wasn't as thick in that particular spot, it was easy to see why both Clara and Samuel and Phryne had chosen it as the pickup location.

«Enlighten me about something, please, Mr. Bailey», Jack said when they were approaching Melbourne. Up to that moment, everyone had been in silence for reasons none of them could pinpoint, except that it was starting to smother them nevertheless. «Do you only have one collar bar? », his tone was professional, but it was something that had been bothering him ever since Phryne had shared that possible alibi with him. «It may seem odd for someone quite partial to that particular accessory. »

«Mr. Robertson -»

«Jones, please. The less we use real names, less likely it is to reveal them at an inappropriate time», Jack said.

Like Phryne, he wasn't completely convinced about their innocence, but, for better or for worse, these new circumstances opened up a new line of investigation and he couldn't risk discovery just yet, when there were still so many loose ends.

«I didn't until my mother gifted me this one for my 20th birthday. Have you never become this attached to something someone gave you as a present? »

Jack's mind flashed to the hat Phryne had given him after his had been shot off his head at Maiden Creek. The same hat he was wearing in that exact moment and which brim he had just touched by impulse.

«I see», Samuel said. His gaze was on the road, but he had caught Jack's movement by the corner of his eye.

«Even so…», Phryne began saying from her place in the car, « In case there's a lost bar at the inn, how do you know it's yours? »

She had also noticed Jack's motion, but, in that moment, there were things at stake other than their feelings and they couldn't let them get in the way. They had been very successful at that for long; there was no reason to stop now.

«It has my initials engraved on each ball end. An 'S' on the left one and a 'B' on the right», He said, his eyes briefly meeting Phryne's on the rearview mirror.

«It's very…personalised», she said, conversation dwindling down afterwards once again.

Samuel was driving at a very decent speed. Not enough to break the legal limit, but sufficient to get them to the city rather fast, something that had definitely been of importance given that they had to be at the Elvsworth before the end of the day.

«Here's where we dropped Daniel off», he said, parking in front of the yellow-ish building of slight Art Deco lines that harboured the Capitol Theatre.

«How long did you take, Mr. Bailey? », Jack asked.

«One, two minutes, not more. Only the time needed to switch places with Daniel and get back into traffic», he replied, tapping his fingers on the wheel.

«You'll park there, please,», Jack said, pointing to a spot that had just been vacated, «and we are going inside to call Mr. Gleason so he can meet us later at the same place where you picked him up on your way back».

Samuel nodded in agreement and the two men left the car.

«You have been awfully quiet, Miss Clayton», Phryne said.

Clara turned her head from the window to face her.

«There's not much I can say now, I'm afraid», she said with a weak smile, «At this point, it's best to let facts talk for themselves. »

Given how she had kept looking out, Phryne guessed she might be comparing the circumstances in which she had made that exact drive the afternoon before. Giddy, nervous, excited, in love? None of those emotions was running through her right now, she looked tired and slightly weary instead.

The men came back and the trip was resumed. Jack took a look at his watch and wrote something on his notebook.

**xxx**

The Gem Pier boiled with that particular kind of activity that comes with being located in a busy port town. There seemed to be people everywhere and many cars and trucks disembarked from the same ferry Phryne, Jack, Clara, and Samuel had come in, a long and ugly boat with two high circular chimneys cutting the air above.

There were vehicles bringing or taking merchandise to and from the area, but there was also a significant number of tourists, probably from Melbourne, meaning to enjoy the afternoon by the bay. Since the end of the previous century that Williamstown had been promoting itself as a health resort and the beach and the Botanic Gardens had been calling many people from the city, particularly in sunny days like this. If the circumstances were different, Phryne believed she might appreciate the afternoon a great deal, particularly with Jack by her side. He always seemed a bit more at ease by the sea.

They had made their trip in silence for the most part once again. Phryne and Jack didn't want to lie or to give away more information than what they had already done and Clara and Samuel had reverted to their quiet demeanour, looking at the water as if it would provide them with some much needed answers but exchanging a reassuring smile between each other from now and then, as they leaned on the bulwarks.

Once they were back on the road, Samuel drove northwards, through residential streets lined mostly with single-floor houses with verandahs, not much different from Jack's neighbourhood, for that matter. They weren't that far away from the shore, but that small distance was enough for them to not be fuelled by all that intensity.

He parked in front of a Queen Anne two-floor white building with brackets under eaves painted in dark-blue and an almost turret-like quality to the left side of the house. Attached to the iron fence, a small wooden white plaque featuring gracious writing next to a skillful drawing of the bird that gave it its name indicated that it was «The Silver Gull Inn».

«Here we are», said Samuel, once the motor stopped running.

Jack looked at his watch again and wrote down their time of arrival.

«Under which name did you register? », he asked, turning in his seat in a way that allowed him to see the other three occupants of the motorcar.

«William and Elizabeth Knightley», Clara said, seemingly out of the bubble to which she had kept herself, « 5, Chalmers Street, in Wangaratta. »

«Please write here your aliases and address as well as your signature», asked Jack, handing Samuel his notebook and fountain pen.

«Stay here, I won't take long», he said, getting out of the car once he had retrieved his things.

**xxx**

Jack had wanted them to stay behind not only in order to avoid any pressure their presence might exert upon the innkeeper and the staff, but also so he could present his badge.

And it had definitely helped to speed up the proceedings. Mr. Burris had been polite since the beginning, but became even more obliging after Jack had identified himself.

«Do you recognise these people? », he had asked, showing him the engagement portrait that had appeared on the Elvsworth newsletter, clipped away from the slew of congratulations heartily offered to such prominent and cherished members of their community.

« Yes, I remember them. Such a nice couple. It was a pity they had to leave early – there was some sort of family emergency, I'm afraid», he had said. Mr. Burris had been running the Silver Gull for 20 years, following his parents' example, and he knew very well when to press for further information and when not. This had clearly been such a time – he had known since the start that their names were not the ones they had signed, but they seemed distinguished and polite enough for him not to mind their intentions. Besides, not only had they left money on the till but the tacit agreement on secrecy also benefited both them and him. If he didn't give them away, they might indicate his establishment to other moneyed friends in similar circumstances, particularly drawn not only by the clean, comfortable, airy rooms, but also by the discretion provided.

But these rules had been slightly changed by the appearance of a Police Inspector. The last thing he needed was to have him sniff around the place and driving away the clientele. He worried for moment that he might have harboured fugitives or criminals if only for few hours, but Jack knew he would cough up information more easily if he acknowledged right away that he was simply triple checking an alibi than generally ascertaining their whereabouts.

When Jack asked for the registry, Burris, a man of about sixty years old with graying hair and round glasses, took it from under the counter, located the desired page and turned it in his direction.

The names of the guests and the date of check-in and check-out were written in a different handwriting than the sample provided by Samuel - Burris' probably, considering it headed all entries on the page -, but the name and the signature matched the writings on Jack's notebook.

«Did someone find a collar bar at Mr. and Mrs. Knightley's room? », Jack had inquired, assuring him that if it were the case it would be given back to its rightful owner as soon as possible.

«Oh, yes. The cleaner found it under the chest of drawers. Just a moment, please», Mr. Burris had asked, leaving Jack behind to rattle around in the back office.

«Here it is».

Jack picked it up and turned it in his fingers before bringing it closer to the lamp standing on the counter.

**xxx**

Daniel Gleason got up from his chair in a hurry, standing out from amongst the many patrons of The Hopetoun Tea Rooms.

Setting the meeting there had been reason enough to make him believe something was off, but he became even more alarmed when he saw his friend and his fiancée arrive with two unknown people in tow.

«Is something the matter, Sam? », he asked, quickly shaking his hand. «Clara? », he said, when the first didn't reply right away.

On the phone, Bailey had only requested that meeting without supplying further details, unbeknownst to him, according to Jack's instructions.

«Hello, Daniel», greeted Miss Clayton, with a polite smile slightly shaded by mortification. Even if she didn't regret it, it had been nearly impossible to predict that their escapade would turn into a matter to be presented in front of so many people.

«Don't worry», Samuel said with a nod.

Daniel was about four inches shorter than him, but seemed older. He had sandy blond hair combed with a centre parting, blue eyes, a sharp nose and that distinguished air derived from having been born in one of Melbourne's richest families. It was temporarily concealed behind confusion, but that wasn't enough to erase the assurance brought by that privilege that everything would turn out splendidly at some point.

« Miss Phryne Fisher, lady detective», she said, offering her hand for him to shake. «I would like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind». Phryne had lowered her voice, slightly uncomfortable due to the fact that she often sat in that green room and indulged in tea and delicate pastries. In fact, she believed that lady wearing a crimson hat seating by the corner was Mrs. Wigmore, an acquaintance of Aunt Prudence from the hospital board.  _Please don't turn around, please don't turn around,_ she wished mentally, standing in a way that allowed her to have her back turned to the other woman.

«And this is Mr. John Robertson, my associate», she continued. Even if being in equal footing was one of the main reasons why their partnership held up so well, there was some amusement to be had every time she presented Jack in this fashion. She acknowledged it was laced with a certain perverted relish, but it was interesting to be recognised as the lead investigator, something people usually bestowed upon Jack, as the badge-carrying officer of the law.

«We should perhaps sit down, don't you think? », suggested Clara, uttering the longest string of words she had said in nearly an hour and a half. If someone were to take that reaction into account only, she would probably come across as more guilty than someone caught up in the midst of a thorny situation, as she kept advocating, which made for an interesting contrast to her unflustered face while she kept rotating her ring around her finger.

They did as proposed, something that seemed to have summoned the waiter, who materialized by their table no one knew where from exactly.

After having dispatched him with the order for tea and finger sandwiches for everyone, Phryne resumed talking:

«Mr. Gleason, as you may have heard, some members of the board of The Elvsworth Club have suffered untimely deaths, the last one being Dr Bernard Maxwell, murdered during the course of yesterday's afternoon.»

Daniel nodded, looking first at Phryne and then at Samuel and Clara.

«Miss Clayton and Mr. Bailey didn't do it», he said, a bit defiantly for someone who had seemed rather oblivious just a few seconds ago, Phryne thought. «I was with them.»

«Could you be more specific? », Phryne said, looking squarely at him.

«Indeed. I wasn't with them the whole afternoon, but I met them by the Elvsworth and drove them to Melbourne. They had some previous arrangements lined up, so I lent them my motorcar and went to the Capitol. I think I still have the ticket», he said, reaching to the inside pocket of his coat and taking out a money clip. He picked an assortment of small papers from among the bills and flicked through them, putting a rectangular piece of thin beige cardboard on the table eventually.

«May I? », Phryne asked, her fingers already hovering over it, not exactly waiting for authorisation.

«Of course», Daniel said. Meanwhile his expression had eased off, his gaze having become less stern.

«And then? »

«The film ended and I came to the Athenaeum Club, next door, to read the paper and wait for Clara and Sam».

«Did you wait for long?», Phryne asked, once the waiter was gone after delivering the tea, served in silvery kettles and pristine white china with silver-coloured lines around the brims.

«Not too much, I think. I read The Age and The Argus, unexpectedly met a friend from university there and we talked for a little. Curiously, he left to tend to a previous engagement he had set right before I was told Clara had sent for me. They were ready to go and there was nowhere close for Sam to park at that time», he told.

«And your friend, what's his name?», Jack asked.

«Jonathan Boyd.»

«After meeting Mr. Boyd…», incited Phryne.

«I left the Athenaeum and drove these two back to the Elvsworth. I dropped them off and went home. It was my sister's birthday and I wouldn't miss it for the world.»

Daniel crossed his legs once he had finished talking, but it came across more as a sign of relief than of challenge.

«Just one last question: What car do you drive?», inquired Jack.

« A deep rust-coloured Packard Deluxe Eight Phaeton. It's parked outside, if you want to take a look. »

«Thank you for your time, Mr. Gleason. We'll be in touch if needed», Phryne said.

«No problem. I'm pleased I can help my friends», he said, nudging Sam with his elbow, which made him break a smile. Clara, seated between her fiancé and Jack, seemed to have regained some levity and smiled too.

«I'm afraid we can't stay any longer», Jack said, facing Phryne. He had taken upon himself to monitor the journey, its duration, and conditions, and they were approaching rush hour, which Clara and Samuel had escaped the day before.

**xxx**

Through a quick but enlightening glance, Phryne had gathered that whatever Jack had ascertained at the inn went along with Daniel's account as well as with the story Clara had relayed early that morning.

Yet, another quick and enlightening glance had been enough to convey that they wouldn't reveal it until they had had the chance to talk to each other and to share it with Harker, even if it was expected that the Commissioner would be disappointed in seeing another theory turn out to be just that.

The trip back to the Elvsworth was then made in silence once again after the topic about how Daniel and Samuel had met at an amateur golf competition five years ago and had been friends since ('I take him to the Elvsworth and he takes me to the Athenaeum - their pool room is spectacular') had ran out, but the mood was definitely lighter. Phryne took notice that even Clara wasn't holding the handle of her purse with such nervous fervour.

But that easiness came to an end when they entered the parking lot. Although for different reasons, the four newly-arrived felt quite staggered upon the sight of the blue car they knew so well by now.

Clara resumed continually rotating the ring around her finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I hope you enjoy this chapter. I never expected to update so soon after giving you the follow up to Phryne's identity having been discovered, but I guess that I was taken by some sort of creative fever. 
> 
> The Capitol Theatre opened in 1924. On 20 May 1999, it was purchased by Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology (RMIT University), and is currently used for both university lectures and cultural events such as film and comedy festivals. It was designed by Walter Burley Griffin and Marion Mahony Griffen and it's fantastic, particularly inside. Do yourself a favour a google it.
> 
> The Silver Gull Inn does not exist, but the Gem Pier and the Botanical Gardens do. According to my research, it's also true that Williamstown wanted to get away from the 'port city' image a bit and began promoting its pure air and closeness to the sea as elements of an appealing health town.
> 
> The Hopetoun Tea Rooms exist as well and are located at The Block Arcade. In fact, they're briefly featured in one of the first official promo videos for S3 (its window, in fact). I do not know how their china was in the 1920s though, I just got this very particular image of how tea would be presented.
> 
> The Athenaeum is a gentlemen's club founded in 1868. Nowadays it is located in another end of Collins Street (rife with similar clubs at least at the turn of the 19th century to the 20th), but in 1928/9 it was located very close to The Block.
> 
> I apologise beforehand for any shortcomings in my research. If that's the case, I hope you can overlook it but please remember that constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment as usual. They are always appreciated.
> 
> I hope you enjoy what's coming up next.


	20. Chapter 20

«Constable Collins», Jack said, not needing to do much to feign surprise, putting his hands in his pockets.

«Good afternoon, Sir. Mr. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Miss Clayton, and Mr Bailey», replied Hugh with a nod, but Phryne could read a mixture of relief and anxiety about how to proceed in his gestures. He meant to explain the reasons that had brought Harker and him back to the Elvsworth without previous notice, yet he didn't know how to do it with the other couple so close at hand. It was getting exhausting for everyone to keep that operation up.

«I hope good news is the reason that brings you to the Elvsworth, Constable», Phryne incited.

«As you can understand, I am not allowed to reveal anything about the investigation, Mrs. Jones, but be sure that we are making all efforts for it to move as fast as possible», he said, trying to appear as professional as he could.

«Well, we will leave to do your job. We wouldn't want to be a hindrance in anyway», Jack said, taking his hands off his pockets and hoping they could find another moment with less company.

«Constable…», said Samuel with a parting nod that found replicate in Clara's.

As they turned to walk into the clubhouse, Hugh said:

«I believe you dropped this when you took your hands off your pockets, sir». He held out a folded piece of paper towards Jack.

«Thank you, Constable», he replied, taking it and putting back where it purposely belonged. Jack knew he tended to put his hands in his pockets when he didn't know what to do with them, which was more often than not, so he never kept anything there exactly to avoid such situation.

«I think I would like something from the bar», announced Phryne. She felt like she could definitely use a drink after everything that had happened that afternoon (how missed were Mr. Butler's cocktails!), but also to try to figure out where Clara and Samuel wanted to go next and maybe escape them. There was no way Hugh had gone to all that trouble for an innocent remark.

«If you don't mind, I'll go upstairs instead», said Clara, clearly at the end of her rope now, ready to either cry her nerves and exhaustion out or simply melt into her bed, lacking energy to do anything else.

«I hope you feel better soon, Miss Clayton», wished Phryne sincerely.

«I think I'm going to change and play a round of golf to clear my head», Samuel said with a sigh.

«What about your ankle, darling? », Clara asked with concern permeating her voice.

«I'll be gentle with it. Don't worry», he promised, bending his head down a little to kiss her temple.

«Thank you so much», Clara said. Even if it hadn't been addressed directly, she trusted Phryne would convey hers and Mr. Robertson's conclusions to the Police.

«Indeed. Thank you», Samuel said, reaching out to shake Phryne's hand. It wasn't exactly in accordance to etiquette, but it was difficult to convey in words how much they appreciated their help.

Phryne shook it too, but said:

«You are welcome, but it's not over yet. »

 _Nevertheless the fact that the circle seems to be tightening,_ she would have added if it didn't betray the reason for the presence of the police.

Clara shook Phryne and Jack's hands too and followed her fiancé upstairs. The fact that no other members of the Elvsworth but them were there and that the receptionist appeared to be particularly busy on the phone emboldened her. (Or she simply didn't care about gossip anymore).

Phryne and Jack moved to the bar and had some whiskey, but didn't last long there. While settled by the drink in a way, they were too jittery by the prospect of Hugh's note.

For all its restrictions, their bedroom was still the most private space at the Elvsworth, so they decided to go there, making a strong effort to not climb the stairs two steps at the time after failing to find Hugh once again.

As soon as the door was closed and the wireless turned on, Jack unfolded the note and stood next to Phryne, so they could both read it at the same time.

 

**xxx**

 

«Miss Fisher…», Harker said in a low tone of voice, closing the door behind him, yet visibly upset he had been disturbed. «I'm in the middle of interviewing Yates- Miss Clayton and Mr Bailey are still strong suspects, but the last informa-»

«You can scratch them off the list. Staff gossip was carried by a ladies' maid to her mistress and from that on the inspector and me were able to clear them», Phryne said in a rush. «It wasn't him», she continued adamantly, «and we better hurry before the true culprit runs away. There's no chance they don't know about your presence here by now. »

«His business is in the red, has been for years and he wasn't here when the body was found because was in Melbourne trying to get a loan from the new bank. The money of the sale would definitely be welcome. He has motive, something everybody seemed to lack so far», Harker said, lowering his voice even more so he wouldn't be heard on the other side of the door.

«Do you happen to have the semi-burnt thing the police found by the Logan murder scene with you? Constable Collins mentioned it already», Phryne said, trying her best to not keep her composure. She didn't want to yell at the Commissioner, but they were losing precious time.

«Yes», Harker replied, «I was planning to confront him with it. See if he knew what it is and if he recognizes it». He acknowledged she had been very helpful so far, but she was toeing the line now. He was still the Commissioner after all and the last word regarding the course of the investigation would his.

«Could I see it, if you'd be so kind?», Phryne said.

Jack kept quiet. He didn't want to take sides.

Harker begrudgingly took a small brown envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Phryne.

She opened it and dropped the content on the palm of her open hand.

«Well, you better confront Olympia Yates instead, since there's a very high chance that this may be the lost cap to her handbag perfume bottle», Phryne said rapidly. «It's half-melted, but you can still see the ribbed pattern where it isn't, the size matches and the strange oriental amber smell in the back of Maxwell's trousers it's likely a combination of Ylang Ylang, Bergamot, Rose, and Vanilla created by Bisset & Thibault. She's one of their patrons. I found it an odd smell to be on Maxwell's clothes, but it makes sense now and in hindsight I'm pretty sure that's what she rubbed in her wrists and neck some nights ago at the powder room. I noticed that her bottle didn't have an outside cap and I found it odd, but didn't put much thought into it then. Messieurs Bisset and Thibault thrive on packaging their exquisite perfumes in the best design and materials money can buy. I'd say this is silver. They keep records of the custom perfumes they make, I'm sure you'll find a through description of top, middle, and base notes that will match many of these ingredients. »

«Get Constable Collins», Harker said to Jack, « and tell him to stay here. » There was no way he could ignore that input.

Harker sped past them, to get Olympia, Phryne guessed, but not before following him.

At his request, the receptionist gave them the Yateses room number and the spare key, but it was empty when they got there. The wardrobe doors were wide open, but not many clothes seemed to be missing, yet the jewellery box's lid was lifted and the small drawers pulled out and empty, the pieces inside probably grabbed in a hurry to be exchanged for money later.

Phryne and Harker came downstairs and, joined by Jack now, ran outside.

The policemen would search the front of the house while Phryne would take care of the service areas and the back.

She ran through the kitchen, the pantry, and the washing rooms asking for Olympia, but either due to loyalty or befuddlement, no one had been able to make any sound, let alone a cohesive answer that might be of help.

Miss Fisher came out from the back door and looked around, but nothing seemed unusual until she saw a flash of dark yellow chiffon twirl around the corner of the little open annexe that concealed the general garbage containers. She raced towards it, but when Phryne got there, Olympia was already climbing the white wooden fence, her movements imbued by a surprising degree of agility.

«Olympia, stop», Phryne yelled, but the other woman didn't even flinch and started running again as soon as one of her feet was on the ground.

Phryne followed suit, rushing as fast as she could, considering that her heels seemed to cave in the grass with each step.

Olympia tried to make a delivery cart come to a halt, but the driver averted her and went on his way, probably alarmed by seeing that woman come out of nowhere frantically waving her arms.

Once she realised that her efforts had been in vain, Olympia resumed running, but those precious seconds she had lost had been enough for Phryne to shorten the distance between them.

«Stop or I'll shoot», Phryne yelled, her trustworthy pearl-handed pistol already out of her bag.

Olympia didn't turn back and continued on the loose, attempting again to make a burgundy car stop, seemingly twisting her ankle on the process. This time the driver did break and she quickly jumped inside, the automobile moving even before the door was closed.

«Stop, Dr. Taylor, or I'll shoot», Phryne yelled, having recognised the vehicle.

The car drove on but at a slower pace. Inside the cabin, Andrew Taylor was trying to wrap his head around the fact that Olympia seemed to be a fugitive and that there was another woman (Mrs. Jones, it seemed, judging by the voice coming through the open window), running after her and ordering him to stop, threatening to shoot him if he didn't do so.

«Olympia… what happened? », he kept asking, a question to which she kept replying, « drive, Andrew, drive, you can't let them get me».

«Why, Olympia? », he tried once again.

«Stop the car or I'll shoot», repeated Phryne.

«Olympia, what is happening? We have to stop. Tell me what's happ-»

A shot to the air startled him and he hit the brakes, more out of shock and fear than by compliance with the order given, his action making the car drive off the road.

«You don't understand! », Olympia said, reaching for the door handle, but looking at him in dismay when Andrew grabbed her wrist in a strong grip.

« I can't let you go while you do not share even the slightest detail», he said, «this cannot be good».

«It's over, Olympia», Phryne said, standing by the door on her side, the pistol still pointing at Mrs. Yates. «There no need to run anymore»

Olympia slumped in her seat, but there were still traces of fury hardening her features.

«Here», Phryne yelled, without turning her head, replying to Jack and Harker's calls for her, likely following the sound of her shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for reading this chapter and for your ongoing support of this story over more than a year. It's kind of strange to realise that so much time has passed already. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Congratulations if you are one of those who had already expressed their suspicion that Olympia was the killer. *clapping*
> 
> I don't mean to take away from your conclusion, but I acknowledge I may have pointed towards her perhaps a bit more than necessary since I was afraid the reveal come out of the blue. As I write, I don't know what is worse.
> 
> Bisset & Thibault doesn't exist anywhere except in my head, but the perfume mentioned is heavily based upon Estée Lauder's «Private Collection Amber Ylang Ylang». I like perfume but I'm not an expert by all means and I wanted it to clearly know how it would smell instead of relying on random ingredients that might not mix up well and I had an idea of what kind of fragrance I imagined Olympia wearing.
> 
> Given the connection between Olympia and perfume, you can imagine my amusement when Paco Rabanne launched the «Olympéa» fragrance some months ago. Curiously, from what I read, they're both from the same 'family': Oriental Floral and share some of accords like vanilla, florals, and a certain woody quality to them.
> 
> But the story isn't over yet and there are still two more chapters for you to read. It's all written now and I'll post them in the upcoming days.
> 
> As usual, feel free to say something. I always love to read your comments. Thank you again and I hope you like the final acts of this story. As infuriating as writing can be sometimes, it has also been a lot of fun.


	21. Chapter 21

In order to not disrupt the investigation with curious stares and a press circus, Olympia had been discreetly taken to the South City Police station.

A pair of muddy dove grey gloves, a hat pin with a citrine encased in a silver setting, a grey and yellow hat, the torched cap of the perfume bottle, and her client record at Bisset & Thibault were laid on the table, in full view, but away from the reach of her cuffed hands.

«Wendell didn't do anything», were the first words she had uttered.

«We will verify that but, for the moment, we are more interested in what you seem to have done», said Jack, seated alongside Phryne across the table from Olympia. Harker was observing the interview from the outside of the room, since he had thought best to have Miss Fisher and the Inspector interview her. In light of their previous acquaintance, they were probably more familiar with her demeanour to interpret her answers and to better grasp how to proceed next. 

They had little doubt he hadn't been involved in Maxwell's death: his alibi was strong and since he had been told his wife had been arrested, he could only do little more that stare ahead and repeat her name from now and then, but they wouldn't clean that slate so hastily. Besides, Yates might not have participated in that particular death, but there were three others for which they still hadn't found the responsible.

«Let's start with Dr Maxwell's death», he continued.

Olympia might look slightly disheveled, but for the intensity displayed when advocating for her husband's innocence, she had been rather calm.

«These items you disposed of are connected with this murder, are they not?», said Phryne.

«I will not say anything further before I am assured Wendell is clear from any suspicion. As I said before, he has nothing to do with this», she said.

«You are not exactly in a place to make demands, Mrs. Yates, as you may have gathered already», Jack said.

«You don't understand!», snapped Olympia, banging her hands on the tabletop, a movement that made Constable Collins drop the pencil he was using to take notes.

«Then help us», Phryne said in a lower yet firm tone, «answer the questions we are asking.»

Olympia took a deep breath and ran her hands over her eyes, the handcuffs rattling as she did so.

«There's no need to lie anymore. I killed them all: Branson, Siddall, Logan, Maxwell… If only they had heard me and sold the club and the land», she said, looking wistful, even if her gaze couldn't fall on anything else but the beige wall of the interview room.

«How did you kill them?», asked Phryne. Many things had been conveyed in Olympia's sentence, but she had to start somewhere.

Mrs. Yates swallowed dryly before talking.

«Alan always had a bit of a crush on me. I never reciprocated it, not only because I'm married, but also because I never even entertained looking at him that way. But I made use of it this time: with some talk, a couple of gazes, and the unspoken promise of something more… he kept drinking and drinking and drinking. No one would imagine he would be so gullible, but it turns out he was. We drove around passing the flask back and forth but I only pretended to drink, so he finished it up by himself. When he was so inebriated he could barely sit straight, I told him I was feeling sick and needed to walk a little, but he could drive ahead, I would catch up. And so he did until he crashed the car and all I had to do was walk back to club. Sooner or later someone would find him», she said, looking at Phryne and Jack in the end. Before she did so, her eyes turned to the things on the table, but she didn't seem to be particularly concentrated on them.

Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson were stupefied by that cold telling, but would never allow it to show on their faces and posture.

«What about Siddall then?», asked Jack.

«The oldest trick in the book. I adulterated the breaks», she said as motionless as before.

«Wouldn't it be dangerous for you?», asked Phryne. Whatever the motive that had lead her to kill four people, getting into a motorcar in similar circumstances could be considered almost suicidal.

«I followed him in my own vehicle. He liked to take the long way home after the meetings at the Elvsworth, lost control of the car in an isolated road. I waited for some minutes and he didn't seem to move. I went to check , he was unconscious but not dead yet, so I grabbed a cricket bat I had bought for my son and hit him in the head. He was found near dawn by a baker making his rounds», she said, pausing for a little afterwards. « A blow to the skull and just like that he was gone», Olympia said with a small shrug which oddly seemed more of resignation than dismissal.

«I wish I had done it with Logan as well», Olympia continued with a sigh, «fire is messy and maybe too cruel but he had been even more adamant about vetoing the sale because of a bird. A Bird. Cutting breaks had worked before, so why wouldn't it work again? But it wasn't enough. Not after he had accused me of wanting to bring the club down. So I told him I could show him the piece of land Arnold Newton wanted to throw in the deal I was interced-»

«Excuse me», Jack said, «but who is Arnold Newton?»

Olympia seemed to snap out of her trance and focused on his face.

«The developer from Sydney who wanted to buy the Elvsworth; He was probably still holding a grudge because we didn't consider his three-month-stay in Melbourne per year fitting as 'permanent residency', one of the criteria for being accepted. But didn't you know this already?», she asked, her countenance briefly lit by disbelief.

«We were aware someone wanted to buy the club, but our leads pointed to local candidates. Do continue, Mrs. Yates», said Phryne, hoping that the unexpected break didn't make her clam up.

«You never liked me, did you, Miss Fisher, Mrs. Jones, whatever your name is», Olympia said, looking solely at Phryne now. «You must be having a wonderful day.»

«I always do when justice is served whether I like the people involved or not», Phryne said steely.

«I brought a tin of gasoline with me and burned a man down. That's what you want to hear, isn't it? I then put some perfume on to cover up the smell, but the smoke got too thick, I started coughing and lost the cap in the middle of the weeds on the side of the road», she said without making time for any answer to her own question. «I looked for it for a while, but I couldn't stay there any more or sooner or later someone would see the fire and get the police and I would never risk dying there either, so I drove away once again. I was foolish enough to trust that everything around would burn before the firemen came but I guess I was wrong… Betrayed by the cap of a perfume bottle. It serves me well, I guess», she said with a nod, more to herself than to the people present in the room.

«Not only. There are the gloves, the hatpin, those small dark dots in the hat that I guess are blood transported by said pin. Why did you keep these things?», Phryne asked, genuinely puzzled. «You never struck me as a as woman to do things by half and, the dreadfulness of it aside, you appear to have managed to kill four men by yourself».

«I didn't want to toss them in the rubbish at the Elvsworth and I hadn't had the chance to dump them somewhere in Melbourne. Ironic, no?», she said with a dispirited shrug.

«How did you kill Maxwell?», Jack asked, somewhat startled by the repetition that afternoon. Even after all those years with the police, he had very rarely dealt with multiple murderers.

«I just wanted to talk to him once again and asked me to meet me by the lake, but he wouldn't hear it. He and Wendell were always so proud of that club. 'Even the King was here!', they said. Yes, nearly ten years ago and for an evening. They could have set the club here or in North Melbourne or in any other place in the region. He kept arguing about it and I stabbed him in the neck with my hat pin. He fell to the ground and I kept him face down in water for as long as I could. He tried to overturn me so I pressed his wound and even if at first he was trying to make me stop, I guess he was in so much pain eventually he didn't move anymore, neither to shake me away or to keep his head off the water».

As Olympia talked, a ghostly expression had fallen upon her face, almost like she was finally acknowledging the true scope of her actions. It seemed that the barrier she had put up to separate the person inside her able to kill and the person who had perfectly played the roles of wife, mother, and host had finally shattered and fallen to the ground, revealing to herself that they were one and only indivisible being.

«I moved the dirt around him in case in case something had fallen off my clothes or a strand of hair…», her voice trailed off, smothered by the weight of the secret she had been harbouring for so long.

«But I can't go back, I can't go back», Olympia repeated, her tone increasingly more desperate, her eyes bright with tears on the brink of falling down in her cheeks in a seemingly unending stream.

«Olympia», Phryne said, yet unable to catch her attention. «Olympia, what can't you go back to?», Miss Fisher tried again, speaking a little louder this time.

«To being poor», Olympia replied, crying now with the abandon of defeat.

Jack and Phryne sat in silence. Money and passion were the main motives for murder, so getting a confirmation that the first had been behind these crimes wasn't exactly a surprise. Yet, they couldn't say the same regarding the revelation Olympia had just made.

Phryne opened Olympia's handbag and looked inside for a handkerchief, handing it to her once she found it.

«Thank you», mumbled Olympia from behind the white piece of cloth and her tears.

She supported her head in her hands, moving them from her forehead to her face and then upwards again.

She had seemed ready to resume talking at least two times, but her efforts had been quickly thwarted by more tears. Phryne wondered if she had even allowed herself to cry over the past years.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy with consternation and discomfort and anticipation.

«Have you ever heard about the Connovers?», Olympia said at last, cleaning her eyes with a corner of the handkerchief, her voice still coarse from crying.

«I'm afraid not», replied Phryne. Even if she hadn't been directly addressed, the way Olympia had faced her for most of the question gave her the sense that it had been her intention.

«Exactly. That was my maiden name: Olympia Connover. My grandfather made the family fortune in the gold rush and consolidated it in commerce. My family was able to endure the depression in the 90s without many losses, but my father didn't prove himself a very worthy heir to his and he gambled the rest away years later ». Olympia was starting to get teary-eyed once again. «We had to sell the house and nearly everything we owned and move to Fitzroy when I was 14. My mother did her best to provide for me and my sister and we all did small sewing and needlework jobs, but up to very little time ago we had lived in a big mansion in St. Kilda Road with a staff to wait on ever every wish and whim. Do you have any idea how it hurt? Our life was turned upside down in a flash. My maternal grandparents wanted to help, but my father was the most stubborn, proud man and he never accepted it even if he kept drinking the little money he had away. They were respectable, but by no means rich, yet they wanted to help as much as they could and he never let it happen.»

Olympia stopped talking for time enough to dab her eyes with the handkerchief.

«Yet, if not for them helping in secret and a scholarship, I wouldn't have been able to proceed with my education at the Presbyterian Ladies' College. I mentioned having attended it when boarding school came up in conversation weeks ago because we wanted to impress you as well, but I was truly relieved when you said you had gone to Roedean instead, Miss Fisher. I'm very thankful for my education, but you can only imagine the humiliation of returning to a place you had once been the queen of. I lost many friends, whether because they drew away on their own accord or because their parents forbade them from continuing to be associated with me, and the few I kept it was always at arm's length. I wouldn't even dream of inviting them over after school as I had so many times before. I couldn't bear the embarrassment of the small house and the dingy rooms and the meager tea and my sister and my mother bent by the window as they embroidered the trousseau of a new bride with her married initials », she said, cleaning the tip of her nose.

«What about your son?», Jack asked. He could never condone her behavior, but he wasn't completely indifferent to her reasoning.

«As strange as it may sound, he's the reason I did all this. I couldn't risk him having to go through all I did and with the dismal state of the accounting office it was very likely it would happen. I wouldn't uproot my son from everything he knows, from the life that has been his own because of the mistakes of his father, of our mistakes », she said, close to losing it again.

«Give the nature of the crime, you may hang, you are aware of that», Phryne said. Given her own life story,to a certain degree, Phryne could understand why Olympia had done what she had, she could even believe that despair had kept her blind to the consequences, but she doubted it could continue so. «This will change your son's life.»

Olympia's shoulders sagged.

«Yes, Miss Fisher. I'm very aware of that, but at the time it seemed the right thing to do. The reward would be bigger than the risk. If the sale went ahead, the board would get a small percentage and Newton would give 30 thousand pounds to each member of the board as a signing bonus. With that amount of money we could pay the debts at the office and the loan on the house and straighten our life from there», she covered her face again and took a deep breath.

«Edmond many never forgive me, but he has the best father he could have and that will help him. It won't resolve all the problems, but he'll always be by his side.. Bad business luck may have struck Wendell, but he's a good, loving, devoted, hard-working man. He could never kill anyone», Olympia said, her voice letting out the pain taking hold of her. «You know, before our lives fell apart, I could hear people tell my mother that I was so beautiful I would be the debutante of the year when the time came. I would be the best catch. Except it didn't. I was still beautiful and smart, but I didn't have that many men to choose from anymore. So I picked the one man I loved. Wendell had no fortune, just a good education paid for a great-aunt and the connections made while he attended good schools and university, like Bernard Maxwell, but we loved each other. Still do, I say, up to this point at least, we did. I know he may never forgive me either, but I don't regret having married him, never did even when we fought over money.», her eyes lit up for a moment, while she talked about him. « I worked at the luggage department at The Myer Emporium and he had come there to buy a good suitcase for a trip to Sydney he had to take. He had one, but it was battered and he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of his boss, who would undertake the trip as well. As you can see, we have been trying to not embarrass ourselves in front of rich people for a long time.»

When Olympia had revealed she had killed those men and why, Phryne had meant to ask her if she would go as far as murdering her husband, but it would be too cruel now; the other woman's heartbreak was answer enough.

«That's why you kept repeating you were sorry when Maxwell was found», said Phryne, more in acknowledgement than inquiry.

Olympia couldn't reply over her cries, sobs so intense they seemed to come from the deepest end of her soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it, now there's only the epilogue left and, if everything goes according to the plan, I shall post it tomorrow. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you think that the reasoning behind the crime makes some sense at least and that I managed to tie up most loose ends. I tried. 
> 
> I'm sorry if the chapter sounds too info-dumpy. I know it's something I have to improve, but, no matter my attempts, it's still not as up to shape as I hope it gets someday. As it happened in Once Upon a Time in Melbourne, yet not done in purpose, it also comes in a moment where the person can no longer keep a secret and I hope it can be seen as a pertinent explanation and motive to why it happened like this.
> 
> The Myer Emporium still exists today as Myer, one of the main department store chains in Australia. It was founded in Bendigo as a draper's business by two Russian brothers and it prospered into a second location in Bourke Street, Melbourne, after they bought the business of Wright and Neil. A new building was completed and opened in 1914. It was quite something in the retail landscape of the city since it didn't cater to wealthy customers only and it also made use of innovative ways to display merchandise and advertise it. While many department stores failed or got bought by bigger competitors, Myer still exists today around the country.
> 
> I know it may sound repetitive, but I do cherish the reviews you leave so don't feel shy if you feel like leaving one. I hope you enjoy what's coming up next. Thank you again for everyting.


	22. Epilogue

The bar buzzed with a liveliness that might seem difficult to believe in given the situations that had shaken the Elvsworth to the core just two months ago. Yet "forget and move on" seemed to be the club's unofficial motto and about £3500 had been raised to the Children's hospital in a vigorous auction led by the new acting president of the Elvsworth. Andrew Taylor would soon be given full powers after being confirmed in an election process to take place within three months and for which he the only running candidate, but for the time being he had taken the mantle from Wendell Yates, who was adjusting to the life of a single parent and preparing his move to Adelaide eventually after Olympia's death, away from the shadows of the scandal that still rippled through Melbourne.

The Ashton paperweight had been taken off the auction so to make up for it Miss Fisher had bid generously in a handful of items. Now that it was over, Phryne had gone to the powder room and Jack was waiting for her by the bar. It was rather unsettling to find that he felt less at ease there now as Jack Robinson than how he had when he had pretended to be Archibald Jones. He kept rotating the glass in his hands even if the ice had melted long ago just to have something to do, now that Clara and Samuel had finally accepted his word on how he didn't want to prevent them from enjoying the ball.

Miss Clayton and Mr Bailey were currently dancing a very competent foxtrot. Both had been tremendously surprised by the reveal of the identity of the murderer who had nearly ruined their lives, but it was all behind them now. There were articles to be written, golf competitions to take part in, and a wedding to plan and they laughed and talked in each other's arms as if they didn't have a care in the world, cutting a striking figure clad in her dark orange dress and his black tie.

In order to cover his uneasiness and dodge Rowland's watchful presence, Jack took a sip of his now too watery whiskey, his eyes darting to the door once again in search for Phryne.

She appeared at last, but instead of making her way through the joyful crowd to meet him, Phryne lingered by the door frame, inclined her head to the right and went away.

Jack got up from his bench and exited the bar, fully aware of where Phryne would be waiting for him.

The noise didn't disappear completely as he walked outside and towards the pool, but since everybody but them appeared to be at the clubhouse, it nearly felt they were alone.

The scene looked like something out of an Edward Steichen photograph or maybe a film still. Jack just beyond the gate, two rows of lounging chairs perfectly aligned on each side of the pool, the water seemingly dark, and Phryne standing across him, her back turned, her elegant figure lit by moonlight and the golf course sprawling ahead.

Jack made his way in silence, being denounced only by the light tapping of his shoes on the stone floor.

Phryne didn't say a word or move either, not even when he was so close Jack could count each of the lavender blue chalcedony beads of the sautoir trailing down her back and the amethyst pellets of the tassel at its end, everything perfectly framed by the low neckline of her black satin dress.

Jack had yet to find a moment when he didn't think her ravishing and irresistible, but Phryne looked particular so that night.

«It was a pity we never made use of it, hein?», he said eventually when he was already by her side.

Phryne turned to him, smiled, and said:

«Indeed. You looked quite fetching in your swimming gear that time in Queenscliff.»

Jack smiled too, thankful for the cover offered by the night; he felt his face warm up. «Allow me to extend the compliment to you, Miss Fisher.»

«Miss Fisher?», Phryne repeated, raising and eyebrow.

«I'm afraid I still have a difficult time bringing myself to say 'Phryne' unless you're in danger or on the verge of doing something rather unadvisable», he said, looking at her. With her grey eyes twinkling with mischief and her features gently lit by the moon, she looked otherworldly.

«I would say you should practice it more», she said.

They were very close without even noticing they had moved.

«Is that so… Phryne?», said Jack.

«Very well. Full marks, Jack. But you should practice more still. »

Phryne was well aware that a lot had shifted during those days undercover at the Elvsworth. Once they were over, Phryne and Jack had tried to go back to their own lives, but when a new investigation had brought them together it was as if their heart-to-heart at their room had just taken place and they were still trying to make amends with it. They did their jobs, bantered, and met for drinks at her house, but as much fun as it was, there was always a moment when it all came to a halt and they found themselves in silence, sipping charged beverages.

How could they go from being so at ease to tongue-tied in a matter of seconds as if they were in the throes of first love?

«Thank you for rescuing me from the bar», Jack said.

«That's what it is, then?», Phryne replied with a falsely dismissive shrug.

«Did you have something else in mind?», Jack said, putting his hands in his pockets out of nervousness.

«Something more personal, perhaps…», said Phryne, getting even closer.

«I see, Phryne» he said, not making any effort to turn away from her.

She smiled. Her chest rumbled in a way it had rarely done. She lusted after Jack, it was true, but her feelings for him went beyond desire and this realisation left her scared but also ecstatic in a way that made it difficult for her to discern the boundary between the two. Whatever the outcome, this was way more than just a fling.

Phryne leaned towards Jack. She had let herself be overrun by fear only very exceptionally and this wouldn't be one of those occasions.

Despite wanting to do it more than what he had ever realised, Jack knew that if he leaned towards her as well it wouldn't be possible to turn back. They were well over that point, had been for a while.

Phryne traced his jaw line with her thumb and his right earlobe with the pad of her index finger.

«If I didn't know you any better, I would say you were stalling», Jack said, smiling at her.

«I wouldn't call it stalling, but 'building momentum'», Phryne replied, her voice almost a whisper, kissing him afterwards.

At first, it was a tender kiss, but it quickly grew more intense, both Phryne and Jack letting themselves go, relishing the emotions they had kept at bay for so long.

Phryne's arms were around Jack's neck, his arms holding her tightly. They had thought about scenarios like this times enough to be conscious that if they ever happened they weren't the end of their questions, if anything they would raise even more, but in that moment none of them was thinking about it, their senses busy with taking in the other, their warmth, passion, intimacy, and even their perfumes.

When breathing became a necessity none of them could deny anymore, they pulled away from the kiss, but kept their arms intertwined. It seemed a waste not doing so after so many months of restraint.

« I still haven't given up the house on Christopher Crescent», Phryne said, raising an eyebrow.

«Are you ashamed of taking me to St. Kilda?», said Jack good-humouredly, even if «ashamed» wasn't exactly the correct word. There weren't many things that embarrassed Phryne.

«No, but it's more likely we'll be interrupted there than at Hawthorne, don't you think?», Phryne said, quickly kissing him again. It was sort of odd to do so that freely, but she would take advantage of every chance and impulse she had, «I would like us to take our time», she continued, playing with his bowtie.

Jack, on his part, was also rather incredulous about the turn the night had just taken, but he was fully willing to make the most of it. How could he not when Phryne was by his side.

«I do like a woman with a plan», he said, those words eliciting a wide smile on Phryne's face.

Still holding hands, they exited the pool area, set in finding the motorcar and getting out off there as soon as possible, only to stop many miles away when they were irrevocably, delightfully, gloriously alone.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 22 chapters and more than year, Phryne and Jack's undercover investigation at The Elvsworth Club came to an end. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this epilogue. Even if I put a lot of effort in the mystery part, it's no secret that Phryne and Jack's relationship is what drew me to write this in the first place so I wish you're satisfied with the way things went. As usual - and yet it never gets old -, I love to get your feedback.
> 
> According to the converters I found on-line, £3500 in 1929 would be worth around $255,580.00 AUD (171168 €, $236123 USD) in 2013. I think it makes for a nice sum for the time. 
> 
> It probably gives me away as a hack once again, but Phryne's necklace is heavily inspired by the Violine long necklace/backnecklace from the Étourdissant Collection by Cartier. I was flicking through a magazine, came across it, and thought it was so Phryne I had to include it. Google it, because I don't think you'll be disappointed. 
> 
> I believe that there's nothing else left to say now but to thank you once again for all your support during the long and sometimes arduous process of writing this story, whether through your reading and comments but also in the form of the encouraging messages you sent me when writing simply wasn't flowing, for being so kind and appreciative. Please accept my heartfelt thank you.
> 
> In order to try to avoid such long gap between updates, my next multi-chapter fic will be written in full first and published frequently afterwards. I may write some smaller things meanwhile, but for the moment I'm already currently engaged in bringing Phryne to the French Riviera. Let's see how that turns out.


End file.
